Civilian
by l'esprit d'escalier
Summary: "I am nothing without pretend/I know my thoughts/Can't live with them/I am nothing without a man/I know my faults/But I can hide them." -Wye Oak. They were not expecting the world to end, or where it would lead them. Daryl/OFC, Content Warning.
1. Prologue

I do not own Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead, or any property in the American South.

* * *

The long stretch of highway watched in horror as Atlanta went up in flames. Somewhere, a woman began to scream. Some people went scrambling for their cars, while others grabbed their belongings and people and took to the hills. Merle leaned cooly against his motorcycle, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Guess'ts time to rethink, little brother."

Daryl scowled as his brother nearly spat on his boot. His eyes flickered across the scene in front of him as he rolled Merle's words around in his head.

_Where the hell was there left to go?_

Engines roared and horns blared as people frantically began backpedaling away from the city. The Dixon brothers stayed where they were, both having enough sense to realize that the best place to be was wherever the panicked throng of was not.

Two other vehicles stood unmoving nearby; families, it looked like to Daryl. Kids peered out of the open trunks, sitting among boxes and suitcases, while women paced and fidgeted. One of the men watched them cautiously. Daryl glared at the way the cocky summabitch hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked him and his brother over. Merle had noticed as well. He smiled at the other man.

"Beautiful night, wouldn' ya say?"

The man flexed his chest-exhibiting the printed letters POLICE- in a way that made Daryl's hackles raise. Before anyone had a chance to say anything more, growls erupted from the other side of his dusty pickup. They must have turned recently, blood still oozing from open wounds. The kids began screaming; Merle went into his pack while Daryl lunged across the bench seat of the truck grabbing for his crossbow. There was a screech of tires on hot pavement, a flash of light, a series of sickening crunches, all before he had the chance to raise his head and see the new car that sat where the geeks had just been, steam pouring from under the blood-splattered hood.

The driver's door swung open and a person tumbled out. The Dixons did not release their weapons and the mothers clutched their children close as the small group assessed the new arrival. The cop raised a flashlight and barked,

"You bit?"

The woman- they could see she was a woman now that she pushed long hair out of her face and squinted against the flashlight beam- shook her head.

"You okay?"

Breathing heavily, she nodded, then turned and looked at the damage to her car. She had plowed full speed into the geeks, eliminating the threat but also effectively bashing the hell out of the old Corolla. Daryl was closest and possibly the only one who could hear her soft voice.

"Shit."

One of the women, the tall bony one, went forward and touched her shoulder.

"You saved us all,"

Daryl snorted. _Didn' save me, coulda handled things without her bustin' in_. The new woman listened with an oddly blank face.

"Let us help you."

She hesitated while her eyes moved from one person to the next, accessing. Daryl thought he saw her gaze linger on the SS decal stuck to the front of Merle's bike. She slowly nodded, and allowed the cop and his wife to pop the trunk of her ruined car and help retrieve her things. Their boy spoke.

"I'm Carl, what's your name?"

She paused for a fraction of a second after placing a duffel bag next to him, then replied.

"Nora."


	2. Chapter 1

It had been several days, maybe weeks even, since the highway and the group had begun to establish some kind of normality. Chores had been created, boundaries established, and the fear was beginning to diminish just enough that the group had started to learn about each other.

Dale had the tools and a wise word when needed. Shane took on all of their wellbeing and safety on his shoulders, whether they asked him to or not. Amy was agreeable and could be very helpful when you told her exactly what to do. The Dixon brothers, well, just say thank you for the squirrel and steer clear.

Nora slathered on the last of her SPF 45. She had amassed several bottles of varying degrees of usefulness before leaving for Atlanta, so she had enough to last for a while, through the summer even. Still, if she was going to move down the SPF scale she was going to have to find a good hat.

The camp had been tanning up around her, and her fascination with sunscreen was a much enjoyed source of amusement. She just shrugged when asked why.

"I hate sunburns."

Jim was sitting out in front of the Winnebago, tools spread across the ground. She dragged a stump over and they acknowledged each other silently. He handed her screws, washers, or small bits and pieces and she wiped the dust from them or rubbed them with oil or simply held them until he needed them back.

This was another topic much whispered of in the camp, the odd relationship between Nora and Jim. As far as anyone knew they had not known one another before the camp was established, and yet the gangly mechanic with perpetual worry lines and the woman with lily white skin spent much of their time together in silence. They were perhaps the two people who spoke the least, and yet they seemed closer to one another than anyone else.

Daryl did not understand their connection any more than the next person, but he especially didn't understand her. While dressing a squirrel by the fire pit, he glanced over at her profile as she handed Jim a wrench.

_The first night at camp, Nora had listened quietly to Daryl's infamous tale of his chupacabra sighting but had not commented as many others did. When people had begun serving up and tucking into their meal, however, she had settled on a log about two feet away from him with a plastic plate in her lap._

_Nora did not say anything at first, then, without lifting her eyes from her food, said,_

_"Did it look like a dog?"_

_He had stared, feeling his shoulders tense. She had looked up at him for moment, and he suddenly understood what she meant. He chewed his food._

_"Kinda."_

_Nora nodded and continued eating._

_"What's it t'you?"_

_She had raised and lowered a shoulder._

_"I heard somewhere that sometimes people say that they look like dogs, and other people say that they look like big lizards."_

_"You think I'm lying?"_

_"No."_

_And that had been the whole conversation. Daryl had been unsure if she was waiting for him to say something else, but he never did and neither did she. The pair of them had simply eaten and stared into the fire until she put out an open palm. He had furrowed his eyebrows until she pointed to his empty plate; he gave it to her and she had walked away to the basin without looking back._

"Hey. Nora!"

A small collection of people were going to find firewood.

"We could use some extra hands, if you don't mind!"

Jim gave her a small smile as she rose and walked to the fire pit. Daryl looked away when she headed his direction, trying to focus on cutting meat from bone. The firewood group contained both blonde sisters, the tall woman and the Asian kid, none of whom he considered actually able to protect themselves.

_Hell, any of 'em would probably only make a situation worse 'fore they managed to fix anything._

Nora grabbed a basket on the opposite side of the pit.

"Hey."

She looked up. He held a baseball bat out by the round end, the handle towards her. For a brief moment their eyes met in silent understanding; he noticed that her's were large and brown with long dark lashes. Then she took the bat awkwardly in her hand and jogged away.


	3. Chapter 2

The night was still and humming with damp heat. Frogs croaked sluggishly and the fire crackled but that aside it was a quiet night. Daryl reclined into the fabric seat of the folding chair set up on top of the RV for whoever was on watch, a rifle across his lap. He felt like an old hound stretched out on a porch, enjoying the warmth and relative silence.

He knew she was sitting at the fire behind him, stacking the clean dishes into neat piles in egg crates. He heard her send her follow dishwashers to bed, insisting that she didn't mind finishing by herself. They'd thanked her and chattered their way to their tents, leaving the area to the sounds of the night.

But Daryl was surprised when he heard her clambering up the ladder; Dale was set to relieve him at midnight, not her. She held out a glass of water, which he took with a nod, and put a plate of plain crackers on the roof beside him. Nora hesitated, face upturned at the night sky, then settled a few feet away with her legs crossed.

It was not a conscious decision, but Daryl found the muscles in his jaw and shoulders tensing. He didn't understand what she wanted from him when she did this; was she expecting him to say something to her? Did she expect him to amuse her or comfort her or say something thought provoking? Either way he was tired of whatever this bullshit was.

"What's with the Florence Nightengale crap?"

She turned her head and gazed at him in surprise, almost as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Sorry?"

He nudged the plate with his foot, glaring. She raised and lowered a shoulder; he was starting to hate it when she did that.

"Thought you might want some."

"Well I don't."

He hated her constantly blank face even more than he hated her constant shrugging. And he hated the way she never said anything or the way she looked him in the face like she was trying to figure him out or the way she brought him plates of goddamn crackers and acted like it was a normal thing to do.

Although he could tell that she was thinking, she did not appear to react. Finally, she blinked once and allowed her eyes to drift to her shoes. They were made of impractical light weight cloth that betrayed the fact that she was wiggling her toes ever so slightly. There was silence for a time, in which Daryl gnawed on his lower lip and Nora tilted her head back once again towards the night sky.

"What kind of name is Nora, anyway?"

It had not sounded the way he wanted it to. Rather than disinterested and annoyed, his voice had come out in a gruff mumble. She rubbed the back of her neck.

"Eleanor Louisa Remington Bellamy."

He snorted, and she raised a corner of her mouth in a rueful smile.

"Christ."

"Yeah..."

"What'd your folks think you were, the Queen a' England?"

"I think," she picked a loose thread in her jeans as she sought the right words, "I think they thought it would make a person seem sophisticated."

"It makes a person sound like a stuck-up bitch."

Her smile widened but her eyes were far away.

"I guess they didn't think about it that way."

"Guess not."

She leaned back on her elbows.

"What kind of a name is Daryl?"

"It ain't no kind of name."

She peered over at him.

"Guess not.

When silence fell this time it was different. Comfortable. Periodically he would glance over and see her gazing evenly overhead. The moon would not be full for another week, but combined with the stars a decent amount of cool blue light was shed across the hills.

"Daryl?"

It felt odd to have someone refer to him by his name in that quiet tone of voice. He grunted.

"Don't tell anyone," he furrowed his brow and she clarified, " 'Nora' is all anyone needs to know. For simplicity's sake."

Daryl nodded slowly, although he didn't understand.

"Whatever. Now quit botherin' me."

He turned back to his watch, stuffing away the thought that she looked like a kids' book drawing of Snow White, and focused on the task at hand.

Nora took a cracker from the plate and nibbled a corner.

He found that he didn t mind her company.


	4. Chapter 3

Daryl sat outside his tent sharpening a buck knife when he heard her walking up. He didn't know how he knew it was her, but sure enough when he glanced up Nora stood about five feet in front of him. She held a basket on her hip.

"Laundry day."

He wiped a bead of sweat of his forehead and grunted, moving to the open flap.

"Well my goodness, if it ain't_ you_."

Daryl froze; Merle was back from wherever the hell he'd been. He dug through the tent, snatching up the things that smelled the worst as he heard his brother continue outside.

"C'mon now, princess, give ol' Merle a smile."

Daryl craned his neck and saw her watching Merle evenly, but he'd seen something else flash through her eyes. It was so quick it was almost like it hadn't happened at all, but not even Nora could fool Daryl Dixon.

Years of prowling through the woods alone- and learning to detect the smallest change in his old man's body language before a punch was swung- had given him a talent for keen observation. He knew when he saw Shane and Lori coming back from the woods what they'd been up to; he saw the guilt Andrea felt when she looked at her little sister. And he could see the things that went on behind Nora's eyes no matter how quickly she managed to stifle them before they leaked onto her face. What he did not know was why she hid them.

Merle took another step forward, giving her a long look up and down. Daryl didn't like the direction this was taking. Her lack of reaction was only spurring him on.

"Now, now, that's no way to treat a friend," the words came out in a drawl as his brother's sharp gaze returned to her face, "didn' your mama ever tell you that?"

There was still a stink of unwashed clothes in the tent, but Daryl gave up looking for more and moved to chuck the bundle he had in the basket.

"And since we're friends, lemme tell ya a little secret."

He was only a couple steps away when Merle moved in close to Nora and reached a hand towards her face.

"I like anythin' thats on my body to be reeeeaall soft."

Daryl dropped his pile on top of the other clothes. The second they landed Nora jerked her head away from Merle's fingers, turned on her heel and walked away. Daryl felt his stomach twist as Merle gave a croaking laugh.

"The world's gone to shit, sugar tits! Your credit card ain't gonna help you no more! When you're ready to start takin' things a little more seriously, ol' Merle'll be right here!"

She didn't flinch, moving on to the next tent. Now that he was closer, Daryl could see how constricted his brother's pupils were and the choppy way he was breathing; he scowled, the sickness in his gut deepening.

"You look like shit." he growled.

Merle lashed out an arm, clocking Daryl around the ear before he could duck.

"An' if you weren' my kin I'd swear you were some faggot bitch!"

Merle swung again, missing this time.

"Nice piece of cooze comes 'round and you can even get it up!"

He knew that everyone in the vicinity could his brother's slurred words. He knew that she could hear, and felt his face beginning to burn with anger and something else.

"Shut yer ugly mouth!"

"You got no right takin' it out on me, Darlina! Jus' cuz I ain't got a limp dick-"

With a snarl he flung himself at Merle. The scuffle lasted just long enough for each Dixon to give the other a split lip before they were pulled apart. Shane twisted Merle's arm behind his back.

"Problem, officer?"

"Y'all need to cool it, thats my problem!"

Daryl pushed back the men who held him and stormed away into the treeline. He saw her standing close to Jim as he past. He kept his eyes forward, whipping the blood from his face as Merle's laughter rang out behind him.


	5. Chapter 4

–––

The laundry crew generally chose to go down to the quarry after noon, when the sun had begun to move behind the hills to the west and was not directly overhead. Nora had gone with a spray-on waterproof SPF 30; it made her skin feel sticky but she decided it was the trade off for staying on through the wet task at hand. She had tucked the bottle into her basket anyway, just in case.

There were roughly twenty five people in the camp; some changed their clothes on an everyday basis, while others waited until someone commented on the smell. Nora soon realized that the Dixon brothers fell into the later category. She coughed and held a filthy sleeveless shirt at arm's reach. She knew it was Merle's without looking, recognizing the sour, sweaty odor from earlier in the day when he had stood so close.

_Not that Daryl doesn't have his own...aroma._

But while the younger Dixon certainly could use a lesson in hygiene, he didn't smell foul like his brother. Scrubbing the grimy cloth on a washboard, she tried to recall the first night at the camp on the log by the fire. Her nose had prickled when she sat next to him.

_Sweat, of course, and something woody like tree sap, or pine needles... maybe grass._

He smelled dirty, but not unclean.

"Is this your first time on 'Dixon Duty'?"

Nora looked around at Andrea, raising her eyebrows. She gestured to the reeking basket, nose wrinkled. Other women reacting similarly.

"Consider yourself initiated."

Nora smiled and gave the blonde a small salute. Andrea laughed and moved to help with the stinky clothes when she noticed the bottle of SPF 30.

"I think you have a sunscreen habit you need to kick!"

Lori sat back from her washing, staring at Nora in amused disbelief.

"Again with the sunscreen? I think Andrea may be right!"

Nora wrung brownish water from the shirt.

"I hate sunburns."

The women began laughing at the familiar reply.

"It has_ got_ to be something more than that!" Lori said, "I mean, I hate sunburns- everyone hates sunburns- but there has to be more to it in your case!"

Nora put the shirt aside, deciding cooly that it was clean enough for Merle Dixon, and picked another one from the bin. She didn't understand why it was so difficult to believe that she simply burned easily and hated it. Rather than saying so, she just smiled and shrugged.

_Her seven year old self had felt devilishly clever when she realized that Evangeline would not come into the pool in her nicest clothes to get her, no matter how much she hollered from the line of deck chairs to get out and put on some sunscreen. She had paddled triumphantly around in her water wings all day. That night, as she lay gingerly on her bed, she had begged to be allowed to sleep in her bathing suit. Even the touch of her night dress hurt her burned limbs she had whimpered._

_Evangeline had scolded her bad behavior, but whether it was her intention all along or she was persuaded by the big tearful eyes that gazed up at her from a lobster red face, she had agreed. She remembered the way her tears had stung her peeling skin; the way Evangeline had left and come back with frozen cubes of aloe vera she had made in an ice tray, how she had gently soothed her arms and legs and sung to her until she had stopped crying. Before she had fallen asleep that night, she promised Evangeline to always mind her and never go out without sunscreen again._

She would have known this one was Daryl's even if she hadn t seen him wearing it before. Something about the color, or the pattern, or the way the tags had all been ripped out impatiently leaving strands at the hems just made it seem like it belonged to him. She washed it thoroughly until the water wrung out clear.

A decent sized clean pile was spread over two small baskets, and she volunteered to bring them up to dry. The chatting women protested at first, but allowed her to go. With a load on each hip Nora began the trek, enjoying the momentary solitude.

From the top of the quarry path, Daryl saw the line of women washing and knew she was down there. When he had returned from skulking around in the privacy of the forest, Merle had been passed out on his cot snoring. No one looked at him as he walked through the camp but he was not fool enough to think that they had forgotten what had happened. He didn't give a shit what any of them thought, and he especially didn't care what she thought. He had nothing to prove to anyone. Hell, he hadn't even done nothing wrong. It was Merle who started everything, who threw the first punch, who said things about her. He had just been trying to mind his own business.

Still, he couldn't explain why he was lingering in this spot or why he had come back at all. There was a gnawing in his chest that annoyed him because it was starting to feel a lot like guilt. Dale and Jim were sitting in front of the RV, peering at him.

_Nosy assholes._

He spat in the dirt and sat on a rock a little ways down the path with his back to them. He found a dry branch and peeled the bark off with his buck knife. It was a free country. He had every right to sit here if he damn well wanted to.

Crunching footsteps caught his attention. The gnawing got worse when he squinted through the sunlight and recognized Nora coming up the path. She noticed him; they regarded one another from a distance, until he looked down at the stripped stick in his hand.

"How's your lip?"

His jaw tensed as he began to feel self conscious. He chucked the branch over the edge of the path, scowling.

"Better'n his, anyway."

She adjusted the one of the two baskets she held, looking his face over with searching eyes. Her long hair was pulled into a loose braid; a bit had pulled free and hung in a curl along the curve of her pale neck.

"Gimme that."

Nora allowed him to pull one of the baskets from her hand and then followed him towards the camp. They walked in silence until reaching the drying line. She set down her load with a sigh, reaching for the bucket that held clothespins. Daryl put the second basket down. He wanted to say something, but became distracted when he realized she was pinning up one of his shirts.

_It was the day before Daryl's seventh birthday. Merle had been two months into a ten month sentence for assault, and their father hadn't been home in over week. Daryl had gone to dress himself only to realize that all his clothes had been worn and reworn three times over and were covered in dirt and food stains._

_There was a washing machine by the backdoor; Daryl had never used it by himself, but had watched Merle load it up with dirty clothes and soap until they all came out clean. So, standing on a stool, he had filled it up with jeans and shirts and socks; they all looked extremely dirty so he had poured in extra soap to make sure that they would come out clean, then pushed the button labeled START._

_When hot soapy water began bubbling out from under the lid Daryl didn't know what he had done wrong or what to do. He threw down paper towels and toilet paper when it began seeping across the floor, but that only made the mess worse. And when he heard the front door swing open he knew he was going to be in for a world of hurt._

_Later that night, Daryl lay curled up under the porch listening to his father rage around the house through the floorboards. His arms and chest were badly bruised and a combination of blood and tears was caked onto his face. He knew his father couldn't reach him down here and that he would likely forget about the whole thing in the morning. He wished Merle would come home._

He watched as she shook the shirt smooth and held it with a pin at each shoulder. The wet cloth fluttered in the breeze, looking clean and neat on the line. She continued hanging clothes, some of them his, some Merle's, some other people's. Each time she bent over the basket, that same curl brushed against her cheek only to fall back into the crook of her neck when she straightened.

Daryl had done his own laundry since his seventh birthday, but he stood now and watched Nora do it for him. Let her touch his clothes; let her do him a service. She ran a hand over her hair and met his eyes. There was no blame for this afternoon, no judgement. He gave a small nod of his head and she smiled.

He wondered if the shirt would feel different when he put it on again.

–––


	6. Chapter 5

"Disoriented. I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion, all those things...but disoriented comes closest."

The new arrival, Rick, sat nestled in the arms of his wife and son as he spoke. The glowing embers cast warm shadows on the faces around the pit. Dale smiled.

"Words can be meager things. Sometimes they fall short."

Nora sat a small distance away with Jim. They listened to the story of how Rick had come to be at the camp and reunite with his family and best friend. Jim's face looked worried, but Nora knew that he was calm. They watched the different kinds of families- parents and children, husbands and wives, sisters- bask in the happiness that could only grow when a person truly belonged to someone else.

At this point everyone had developed a role in the small community of the camp. Every person had a purpose. Nora and Jim contributed in any way they knew how; keeping the vehicles in running condition, keeping the camp clean and tidy, smiling when they were expected to. But neither of them belonged to anyone.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon? He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

She had three tea bags left; she steeped one now, watching the color swirl out into the hot water as she listened. Even Daryl had belonged to someone. He was regarded by the camp like a rain-soaked alley cat -ready to claw your eyes out, regardless your intentions, the minute you came close - but he had his brother.

"We could lie."

Jim frowned, the lines in his forehead creasing. They glanced at each other.

"Or tell the truth. Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he would have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary, and if Merle got left behind it was no one's fault but Merle's."

"And _that's_ what we tell Daryl? I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?"

The group quieted.

"Word to the wise, we are going to have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

Jim got to his feet with a soft grunt, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and he smiled. The worry lines were real now. He walked towards his tent, hands deep in his pockets. Nora watched him go, then looked out across the hills towards the dark city. Merle was out there somewhere, chained to a rooftop, alone. She took a sip of tea, suddenly needing the warmth. He might never come back, never eat another meal of squirrel, never again leer at her as she passed, never speak another word to his little brother.

She didn't know what she felt. The loss of Merle Dixon wouldn't be blow to her life, nor, she doubted, the lives of most of the people at the camp. Life would go on much as it had before, perhaps smoother. But Daryl would be alone, like her and Jim. Another single sock in a drawer full of pairs; still functional, but an oddity. Nora didn't wish that on anyone.

––

Jim joined her where she stood waiting by the jeep.

"He's back."

Her fingers tightened around the handles of the cooking pot. She had been preparing to boil some quarry water for use when the children began screaming from the woods nearby.

"The kids...?"

Jim shook his head.

"Walker. He was tracking a deer."

"Merle!"

Daryl emerged from the trees, a dozen squirrels dangling from a rope sling.

"_Merle!_ Get your ugly ass out here!"

He didn't notice the way the crowd by the RV stood watching him nervously. As he bent to set down his crossbow, Nora saw the muscles in his arms and back flex. A flash of a tattoo peaked out from under his shirt.

"I got us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!"

When the men began to try to explain the situation, Nora felt suddenly voyeuristic. It wasn't right to put him in this position in front of everyone; it was unkind to put anyone on the spot like this.

"Hold on. Let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof... and you _LEFT HIM THERE_?"

As soon as his volume rose, Nora turned away and sat behind the jeep. She could still hear the scuffle, the buck knife being drawn, the way he spat and kicked and hollered, but she didn't want to stand and watch like everyone else. Rick seemed like a decent man and she generally trusted Shane, but she could not see how they felt this right.

"Its gotta count for something."

"Hell with all y'all! Just tell me where he is."

Her chest ached when his voice began to thicken.

"So's I can go get him."

Jim squatted down beside her, resting his pitchfork across his lap. She found she couldn't look at him, so she fixed her eyes on her knees. He gently prised the cooking pot out of her fingers; before he stood and walked away he patted her hand. Nora felt tears prick her eyes before stubbornly holding them back and willing her face to go blank.

––

Daryl paced in frustration. He hated waiting on a good day, and today was definitely not a good day. He didn't even know if he could trust this Rick Grimes and his sack of honorable bullshit, and now he was also being saddled down by the two of the most worthless assholes this goddamn camp had to offer. If he had his own way he would've gone alone and would've left forty five fucking minutes ago.

Someone was standing by the open sliding door; he glared, not in the mood to talk. When he realized it was Nora his stomach clenched and flipped at the same time. He had forgotten about her in the confusion of the morning; he wondered if she had watched the scene like everyone else.

"_What?"_

She didn't flinch at the venom in his voice, didn't move.

"If you're thinkin' about volunteerin' to come along, I don' need your help and I don' want it neither."

"I wasn't offering."

Daryl bit his tongue, feeling a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Maybe rejection. But he didn't care what he felt. She held out a ziplock bag.

"Neosporin and bandages. In case the cuffs rubbed."

He could do nothing but stare at her blank face. Stormy blue eyes probed her's searching for any sign of sarcasm, any sign of anything other than what she seemed to mean. She shook the bag slightly. He took it. She hesitated, then lifted a small bundle tied together with a blue scarf.

"In case he's hungry."

Daryl would have bet anything in the world that it was crackers. The same salted crackers she'd brought him on watch duty. He wanted an explanation, he wanted to know her reasoning. He didn't know what he wanted.

"Why."

She shook her head.

"I don't know."

They were driving now; Daryl leaned against the cool metal wall, a blue bundle in his lap. His mind replayed the same ten seconds over and over.

He had bent down to accept the crackers. His fingers had curled around her's by accident; they had been soft. He did not let go and neither did she. She looked him straight in the eyes. He looked right back at her. He watched her inhale.

"Come back."

He had not misheard her. He had not imagined it.

She pulled back her hand and walked away.

His shirt felt soft against his back.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: So glad you all are liking where this is going! Thank you for your kind words!

* * *

When Dale began to draw attention to Jim's activity up the hill, Nora felt apprehension trickle down her spine. He had wandered by her earlier, sweating with unseeing eyes. She tried to go after him, but he had not stopped as he went into the trees with a shovel. She had gone up the path twice since, standing fifty feet away from where he dug; watching. He had not looked up once.

Nora hoped it was just sunstroke, hoped it was something curable, hoped she would have the old Jim back by dinner. When he swung the blade of his shovel at Shane, her hope began to fade. When he fought even as his face was pressed into the dirt and his hands were cuffed, her hope turned to cold fear.

She dropped a mug into the bucket of clean water then grabbed it by the handle.

_Maybe he just needs a drink._

Jim was tied to a tree off in the shade, and so, water in hand, she made her way to him. A hand on her elbow stopped her.

"Hey, Nora," it was Shane who spoke, "why don't you go ahead and let me take that to him."

Two days ago she would have said she trusted his opinion; after seeing his dealings with Daryl, after seeing Ed's face, after seeing him disarm Jim, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"I'll go."

His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm when she tried to pull away. Dale joined them.

"Look, I don't really know how to say this," his grip loosened, "but I think a lot of us would feel better if you just let Dale or me go instead."

Nora stared, face as blank as she could possibly make it. Her knuckles were white on the handle.

"Nora," Dale stepped forward, eyes pleading her to understand, "I know you wouldn't do anything to harm Jim or anyone else. Shane knows it too."

"But?"

"...But, its in Jim's best interest to stay where he's at for the time being. It's in everyone's best interest."

"You think I was going to untie him?"

It was a simple question, spoken lightly; she hoped she could keep the darkness out of her eyes. Before they could answer she held the bucket to Shane and walked away. She didn't have a destination in mind; just _away_was good enough for now.

–––

_Mother and Father sat on the sofa and watched her scream herself hoarse on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks but it was not until she began beat her small fists on the hardwood that they spoke._

"_Eleanor, you must see that this is doing no one any good."_

_Mother was standing over her, the light from a lamp that she was not allowed to touch glinting on her glasses. She did not listen, choosing instead to roll onto her back and kick her legs wildly._

"_Now, Eleanor, stop that. This reaction is entirely disproportionate."_

"_**You took her away from me!"**_

"_I see." Father drew a chair close to where she thrashed. "Eleanor, Evangeline was not a possession of yours. She cannot be taken away from you, because you did not own her. She was an employee to this family, and now she is not. Do you understand better now?"_

_Fresh tears began to pour from her eyes._

"_But I love her!"_

_Father sighed, steepling his fingers as he thought._

"_It is completely understandable to develop fondness for a person we see very often, but it is not the same as loving someone."_

"_And, in time, that kind of fondness will go away." Mother added._

_She scrambled to her feet, her once neat hair and clothes a mess._

"_**I love her and she loves me!"** She screeched, turning on her heel and clambering up the stairs._

_The next day, Mother and Father came into her room and took away all of the trinkets Evangeline had made her, all the drawings they had done together, the stuffed mouse ballerina she had given her when she turned nine a month before. She sat on her bed and watched with empty eyes. Before they had come in, she had shoved the bow Evangeline had tied in her hair yesterday morning into her shoe._

_They would never be able to take all of her away._

–––

"Pass the fish, please."

The pan was handed to Sophia, who scooped out a small piece and in turn offered it to Nora. The fish fry had restored a sense of calm in people, allowing them to put the events of the boiling hot day behind them. When Jim had come up the path behind Shane and Carl, he had rested a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm okay."

At the look on her face, he insisted,

"Really. My head got cooked is all."

Now they sat together, enjoying a real dinner and listening to the conversation.

"I've gotta ask you, man. Its been driving me crazy."

Dale smiled in surprise at Morales.

"What?"

"That watch."

"What's wrong with my watch?"

"I see you, everyday, same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass."

People around the fire made general sounds of agreement. Nora had noticed as well, but never thought to ask. She smiled when Dale began to quote_ The Sound and the Fury_. She had a copy somewhere in her bag; when the world began falling apart she had hastily stuffed the duffel with an odd collection of clothes, books and memories. It didn't have any great significance to her, but it had somehow ended up tucked between a sweater and some bottles of sunscreen.

"You are so weird."

"Its not me! Its Faulkner. William Faulkner. Maybe my bad paraphrasing."

The anger she felt towards Dale for stopping her this afternoon had slowly melted away. She had come across her copy of Faulkner in an antique store; it was a first edition from 1929. The tent she shared with Jacqui was only twenty feet away, she might as well go get it. Dale might like to see it. She unzipped the tent flap, wondering if Jim had followed her when she heard shuffling footsteps. Then she heard the screams.

Nora panicked when she saw the mass of walkers descend upon the camp. She thought for one frenzied second about hiding in the tent, but immediately dismissed the idea. The baseball bat Daryl had given her lay by the foot of her sleeping bag; she grabbed it, clutching it to her chest and sweating. The occupants of the nearest tent was being clawed to pieces ten feet away.

Gunshots rang throughout the camp. A walker with bloody wounds down its front and leaves in its stringy hair came towards her, growling. Her hands shook terribly as she swung the bat, hitting it across the arm but not hindering its progress. She thought she heard someone, maybe Jim, call her name. What had been a peaceful fish fry minutes ago was now chaos.

"C'mon y'all! Work your way up here!"

Through her disorientation and terror she managed to locate the RV; she swung once more at the same walker, missing its head again and connecting with its neck which made a terrible crack. She ran, dodging and yanking away from the dirty fingers that reached to snare in her hair and in her clothes. Bodies littered the ground; the smell of decay and blood stung her eyes. The distance between her and the RV no longer seemed unattainable; she could see the armed group calling to her.

A very firm grip closed around her ankle; she lost her balance and fell face down in the dirt. Nora tasted blood, but didn't realize it was probably hers. All she could think about was how the bat had flew from her hands as she hit the ground, and the icy hands clinging to her leg.


	8. Chapter 7

"Oh my god."

Daryl did not have to ask what had upset Glenn.

"Where the hell's our van?"

Not only had they failed to find his brother and given away half of their guns to a bunch of dying old farts and goddamnn vatos, now their means of transportation had disappeared. What was worse, he thought he knew who might've taken it.

"We left it right there, who would take it?"

"Merle."

The realization hit the small group. If it was Merle who had driven off with the truck, he would have one stump for a hand and a major bone to pick with the people who had cuffed him to the top of a department store. For all he knew they were all back at the camp. Daryl felt a familiar sickness creeping into his gut. Merle was his only family, his kin, but that didn't mean that he always agreed with him, and it especially didn't mean he always approved of his course of actions.

_Come back._

The image of Nora's face flashed in his head. He knew exactly what his brother thought of her, and what he might do if he felt he had the opportunity.

"He's gonna be takin' some vengeance back to camp."

There was no other option. They all began run as fast as their legs could carry them. Daryl hoped they got there before Merle ruined something that couldn't be fixed.

–––

"_Git yer sorry ass out here, boy!"_

_Daryl winced when he heard his father hollering from outside. He stood warily in the doorway. His father lit a fresh Marlboro and kicked something towards him that clattered and shrieked. It was an old wire trap with a nasty old possum inside._

"'_ts time I made a man outta you."_

_He didn't know what he was supposed to do with a trapped possum. He stared as it bawled and thrashed._

"_Well, pick it UP."_

"_The possum, pa?"_

"_The goddamn cage, you useless sack of shit!"_

_Fearing a flogging was not far off, Daryl hurried to do as he was asked. The possum threw itself at his hands, growling._

"_Now c'mon."_

_He jogged to keep up with his father as he stomped through the woods and stopped before the nearby river bank._

"_Git ridda' it."_

_Daryl's nine year old mind put together what he was being asked to do; his stomach hurt._

"_Can't I...can' I jus' let him out an' chase him away?"_

_The trap fell with a rattle as Daryl received a swift cuff around the head._

"_I said get ridda' it! Don' make me say it again."_

_When his father staggered over to a bush to relieve himself, Daryl looked down at the possum. It was all scrunched up in one corner of the cage, hackles raised. But he saw in its eyes that it was near crazed with fear. He made his decision. As quickly and quietly as he could he released the latch; the creature scrambled to the nearest tree and disappeared. Daryl sought around himself frantically for something heavy, a stone, a branch, but there was nothing but dry brush. Finally he kicked off his boots and chucked them inside._

_His father turned around when the cage made a loud splash and sank, bubbles rising in the water where it had sunk._

"_Now git yer ass back to that house."_

_Daryl went shoeless until an old pair of Merle's finally fit. His father never noticed._

–––

Night had fallen as they ran; through the darkness they heard the screams and gunshots and Daryl imagined the worst. He busted through the trees and saw the dead bodies, both on the ground and walking around; he was almost relieved. Walkers he could deal with. He aimed and shot an nearby geek in the face before moving on, eyes sweeping the camp.

He realized what he was seeing in segments.

A particularly ugly walker was dragging a body towards it with rotting fingers.

The body was still alive, kicking out at the thing while digging its hands into the ground in an attempt to get away.

The body was a person.

It was Nora.

Her eyes were wide with terror as she desperately tried to free herself. He stopped thinking, aimed and shot the walker through the eye. Brain splattered across her legs, as she whipped her head around and saw what was left of her assailant. Then their eyes met. It was like time suspended for that moment. Her hair was in tangles around her face; blood flowed sluggishly from her nose; she had one shoe on and one shoe dangling off. But for some reason in that moment she looked beautiful to him.

Suddenly time started moving again. She crawled towards him and he used the butt of his rifle to beat the same walker into nothing more than pulp. Then he grabbed her collar and yanked her to his side, crushing another undead skull in the same movement. He felt her hands grip his shirt, her face pressing into his neck, her breath on his skin.

She stayed like that even once the gunfire had died out and the group stood in stunned silence or in tears. It took him a minute to realize that he had one arm wrapped around her waist; he wondered if anyone had noticed, but it was likely that they hadn't. He wondered if he should let go. He pulled away slightly and Nora made a strangled sound in her throat and tightened her fists. She looked up at him; her nose had stopped bleeding but she was shaking violently.

"Go sit down."

She shook her head, eyes pleading with him.

"I needa' go see if there are any more."

He knew, even as he said it, that he wasn't going anywhere; then she reached up to grab handfuls of his collar, met his eyes, and whispered,

"Please."

For a fraction of second he doubted he would ever go anywhere else again. He smothered that thought, but allowed her to rest her face against his chest. There was much to be done in the coming hours. Bodies to burn, bodies to bury, normality to reconstruct. But, for now, he was content to simply stand.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Once again, I so appreciate your taking the time to read and review! Enjoy!

* * *

The sun began to rise, and along with it the worry of which of the dead bodies might do the same. His crossbow lay next him, rifle resting on his shoulder, as he sat against the RV. Nora was on his other side with her legs straight out in front of her; one hand still clung to his shirt. Daryl knew that he was going to need to get up soon, but he couldn't find a way to tell her that didn't sound harsh.

He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye. She stared forward, blank faced. The blood from her nose was beginning to dry on her skin; there was dirt in her hair, and brain on her jeans.

Dale's eyes lingered on the hand that held Daryl's shirt when he squatted in front of them.

"Nora?"

She turned her head ever so slightly.

"Nora, dear, you've got a bit of blood under your nose."

She seemed surprised when her fingers came away red. Her eyebrows furrowed. Daryl scowled. He hadn't wanted to embarrass her by pointing out the mess on her face. He was just as able to take care of the situation, had he decided he wanted to. He didn't need Dale's help.

"Why don't you come with me. We'll get it cleaned up."

Dale put an arm around Nora's shoulders and began to lead her away. As her fingers slid from his shirt, she glanced back at him. He gnawed his lip.

He realized that he hadn't seen Merle at the camp.

–––

"You can't be serious. Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a _time bomb_."

Daryl simply could not understand the harebrained words that were pouring out of their mouths. Did they honestly want to sit there and wait for a threat to develop in front of them?

"What do you suggest?"

He was not going to stand by as walkers bloomed all over camp, that was for goddamn sure.

"Take the shot. Clean, in the brain, from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

But Lori made them drop the matter. _Stupid bitch_. There was no room for sentimentality in the world no more. It was more than kill or be killed. It was kill or watch yourself and others get their throats ripped out and eaten alive. He spat and went back to work. As he passed, he saw Jim standing with glassy eyes.

"Wake up Jimbo, we got some work to do."

The mechanic jerked back to life. Daryl reached down to help drag a body towards the reeking fire. He was not in the mood to argue with Glenn about which bodies belonged where. Anything dead and bloody had the potential to wake back up, and if the Chinaman had a damn opinion then maybe he should stop tending the flames and do some heavy lifting.

"_We don't burn them_! We bury them. Our people go in that row over there."

Daryl didn't know the name of the dead guy, but he had seen him around camp before. They had never spoken; they didn't mean shit to one another. As he lugged his body across the ground, he wondered if the guy would've done the same for him. Wondered if anyone here would have done the same for him. More likely than not they would've dumped him in the fire . Or left him to rot somewhere like they did to Merle.

"Reap what you sow."

"You know what? Shut up man!"

He did not need to take this bullshit from people who didn't give a damn about him. Hell, he didn't give a rat's ass if they lived or died.

"Y'all left my brother for dead! You had this coming!"

It was hot as hell and he needed a drink. Storming over to the water dispenser by the fire pit, he saw Nora for the first time since this morning. She was collecting plates and everything else that he assumed had been dropped and forgotten about when the walkers showed up. She offered him a tin camping mug.

"Its clean."

He didn't reply, plunking down on a stump and tossing back the water. The blood was gone from her face, as was much of the dirt from her hair. Her arms were a strange pale brownish color; when his eyes flashed over the bottle of sunscreen nearby, he figured it had mixed with the grime when she put it on without washing first. Daryl refilled his cup as she dumped a load of dishes into the wash basin and began to scrub at them.

"You didn't find him."

Although she was the first person who had bothered to ask, he knew she meant Merle.

"Found his hand."

Nora paused, not looking up.

"Walkers?"

He scoffed.

"Summabitch cut it off with a hacksaw and split. Thought maybe he'd be back here."

She shuddered and continued washing dishes. He wasn't sure which part of his statement had made her nervous. It occurred to him that if he got bit she wouldn't let them chuck him in a fire.

"A walker got him! A walker bit Jim!"

With a small plop, the glass in Nora's hands dropped back into the basin. Soapy water sprinkled onto her shirt, but she didn't seem to notice. Daryl was on his feet, pickaxe in hand.

"Show it to us."

A circle began to form around Jim.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay."

He grabbed a shovel, brandishing it when Daryl came towards him.

"Easy, Jim."

"_Grab him_."

"Jim put it down. Put it _down_."

"I'm okay. I'm okay."

T-Dog took the opportunity and caught him by the arms. The shovel dropped, and Daryl surged forward to lift up his shirt. When he saw the angry red bite mark, he instantly snatched his hand away. There was no way in hell that it wasn't infected. That Jim wasn't infected. He found that he couldn't look at her face.

–––

He didn't see what there was to debate.

"I say we put a pickaxe in his head. And the dead girl's and be done with it."

How had this group managed to stay alive this long? They were useless, all caught up and tangled in their emotions. It was a simple black and white matter. Either they twiddled their thumbs and waited for more death and chaos, or they got rid of the soon to be walkers and kept everyone safe. His eyes flickered to Nora before he could stop himself. Her gaze was hollow, but not empty. It hadn't even been one whole day since she had had a dangerously close call. She had been more than lucky that they had gotten here when they did; that _he_ had gotten there when he did. She should know better than anyone what needed to be done.

"We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers. Or them to be."

Daryl couldn't stand all of this stalling. They knew as well as he did that they could not get Jim help, C.D.C. or otherwise. He was bit, he was infected, and it was only a matter of time before he came after someone and then they would expect him to swoop in and save the day. Daryl chewed his lip fiercely, looking over at her again. What was the sense in dragging her through all of this? Either way they were going to lose Jim; better it be quick. He made his decision.

"You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do. Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!"

"_DARYL, NO!_"

He heard the safety click off behind his head but he knew Rick wouldn't shoot him. That wasn't what stopped him in his tracks. Most people had barely heard her speak three words together, some more, some less. No one had ever heard her scream. Daryl had never heard anyone scream like that. All the pain, the suffering, the desperate shrillness in her voice made him freeze.

"We do not kill the living."

Once he turned and saw her face, he had to look away. From the horrified look she had on, he might as well of been kicking a kitten to death and laughing. He glared at Rick instead.

"That's funny, coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

As they ushered Jim away from him, Nora ran to the mechanic's side. He clutched her hand as he stepped shakily into the RV, and she followed; she didn't look back once. He felt like a pot boiling over. Rick had called the place they were taking Jim 'someplace safe', but he should've just come out and said 'someplace Daryl ain't'. And he didn't care one bit what they thought he might do. If they wanted to act like a bunch of fucking idiots and get themselves killed, it was no goddamn skin off his back. If that was how they wanted to thank him for everything, if that was how_ she _wanted to show her appreciation for him saving her worthless life, then he was better off without any of them. He didn't need her to make sure he wasn't thrown in a fire; he wasn't planning on dying anytime soon.


	10. Chapter 9

Nora stepped out of the RV with a cooking pot full of bloody phlegm. It smelled terrible, and made Jim gag every time he coughed it up. Part of her just wanted to hurl the whole thing into the woods, but she knew it would be stupid to waste a perfectly good pot.

"I've got it, honey."

Lori took it from her, speaking in an overly calm tone. Normally she wouldn't have liked the way she spoke but she found she didn't mind it now. Nora went to the fire pit and dug around for a fresh pot. She saw movement in the corner of her eye; Daryl stood by his tent, shirtless and stuffing a bar of soap into a plastic bag. When he bent over to grab a fresh shirt, she saw the tattoo on his back in its entirety. Winged something; angels, or demons? She wasn't sure. Heat spread across her cheeks when she realized she was ogling Daryl Dixon; she let her hair fall across her face as she returned to the RV.

–––

"Everybody listen up. Those of you with C.B.s, we're going to be on channel 40. Let's keep the chatter down, okay? Now, you got a problem, don't have a C.B., can't get a signal or anything at all, you're gonna hit your horn one time. That'll stop the caravan. Any questions?"

_No_. Daryl thought in irritation. He gnawed on his thumb nail.

So what if the stupid Mexican family didn't want to come with? They weren't anyone's concern but their own. And if anyone was going to make any kind of good time today, they all needed to hike up their shorts and get moving. He dropped the hand from his mouth in disbelief when Shane offered them a gun and a box of bullets.

"Box is half full."

_Unbelievable._

The wife placed a hand on Nora's cheek; she gave a small smile, waved to the kids. Everyone had washed up before setting out. Her skin was pale and clean once more, and he was sure she had put on more sunscreen. Her hair was in a braid again; the same curl hung loose. For one fleeting second, Daryl wondered which car she planned to ride in.

_The damn Winnebago, obviously. With Saint Jim the Sufferer._

Merle's bike was loaded into the bed of his truck along with his gear. A small bag of personal belongings sat on the passenger seat. When he slammed the driver's door shut, a cloud of dust floated into the air. Wasn't room for anyone else in here anyway.

–––

_Kandi was the prettiest girl Daryl had ever seen. She drove a bright red convertible that matched her lips and had hair that was both red and yellow at the same time. He couldn't help but to watch her mouth as she chewed a piece of bubble gum and leaned against her car._

"_Could ya' give me ten dollars a' regular?"_

_He nodded, his limbs feeling awkward as he popped fuel door open. She blew a bubble that smacked. He saw she was wearing shiny high heels._

"_Yer Roy Dixon's son, ain't ya'?"_

_He nodded._

"_Not Merle, the other one," she grinned, "the baby brother."_

_Daryl felt his face go red._

"_I ain't no baby."_

"_Yeah? How old are ya'?"_

_He chewed his lip defiantly._

"_Eighteen."_

_Kandi laughed out loud._

"_Sugar, you ain't a day older'n sixteen! Any one could see that!"_

_He was fourteen, but he wasn't about to tell her that._

"_So?"_

_She popped another bubble._

"_So what?"_

"_**So** I still ain't a baby."_

_The way she smiled made his lip sweat._

"_Hmm. I guess not."  
__  
The gas pump clicked. She came forward, her tits brushing against his chest._

"_Thanks for the gas, darlin'."_

_Slamming the door, she flashed him another smile._

"_Maybe I'll see ya' around."_

_He walked home later in the dark when his shift ended. The porch light was on; he heard the TV crackling in the den. When he opened the door, he saw Merle sprawled out on the couch, his legs entangled with another pair that wore shiny high heels. His brother looked over casually._

"_Evenin' little brother. Enjoying the view?"_

_Daryl heard a giggle as Kandi peered over Merle's shoulder._

"_Hey there."_

"_Why don' you make yerself useful and go pick us up somethin' to drink. Whatchu want, baby? Ya wanna Zima or somethin'?"_

_She giggled again._

"_Sure."_

"_Ya heard the lady! Now scoot!"_

_Daryl had turned silently and done as he was told. His face burned the whole was to the convenience store. When he came back, Merle and Kandi were gone; he heard the bed frame creaking. He decided to sleep on the porch._

_The next morning, Kandi walked by him like he wasn't even there._

–––

Steam poured out of the front of the RV. The group stood around the vehicle, discussing the options. Daryl paced, crossbow in hand. He didn't like being out in the open like this; he felt exposed. Someone clambered down the steps behind him.

"Y'all, Jim... Its bad."

Jacqui's voice shook as she spoke; he hesitated, then climbed into the RV. Jim gasped and heaved on the bunk, sounding like he couldn't breath. Nora sat at the table with her hands flat on the surface. It took her a moment to look up when he entered. Her face was blank, but he felt he had seen this particular kind of blank before. He knew she was hurting. Jim made a particular painful sound and she shut her eyes.

Daryl hopped to the ground as Rick moved to go inside; he didn't expect her to follow him, taking a deep breath as she leaned against the side of the RV. She didn't say anything, didn't look at him, but somehow he understood that she didn't want to be alone.

–––

_She had spent all of her allowance on the poster. When she had seen it in the shop window, she knew she wanted it more than anything. The man in the picture was the star of a big movie that had just come out, and she thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. She'd seen the room of girls her age on TV; their walls were covered in pictures and posters and other cool, colorful things. With the utmost care she had placed thumb tacks in all four corners._

_When she opened her door, it was gone. Her wonderful poster was gone. Mother stood behind her._

"_Eleanor, I'd like to speak with you for a moment."_

_She was sat down on her bed. Mother folded her hands in her lap._

"_I want to explain something to you," she said, "because I'm sure you're very confused. There comes a time in young woman's life when she wants to start expressing her interests or her hobbies, and that is completely natural. You have a very promising life before you. Your father and I have worked very hard to make sure that your hobbies and interests are befitting a young **lady** like you."_

_Her fingers clenched at the way Mother punctuated the word 'lady'._

"_So, I'm sure you can see how important it is to make sure that you do not deviate from the path we have set before you. You would like to be respected as a lady, wouldn't you Eleanor?"_

_All Mother needed was a clipboard and a pen and she could be talking to one of her patients. She gave a stiff nod, eyes staring rigidly forward._

"_Eleanor. I would like for you to look at me and say yes."_

_For a fleeting second, she thought that she would lose control. Summoning an inner strength she didn't know she had, she fought against every wild emotion her fourteen year old mind could muster. Somewhere deep down she found a dark place, filled with anger and tears and small voices calling in fear; she shoved her feelings into the darkness and locked the door. What was left was a kind of colorless, weightless sensation of nothing._

_Her face was perfectly blank as she said, "Yes Mother."_

–––

Jim leaned against the tree, face upturned towards the cool breeze. Each member of the group took a turn to pay their respects. Daryl was last save for Nora; Jim met his eyes. The two men regarded one another, neither the type to mince words. Jim's clouded eyes bore into his; moving ever so slightly in Nora's direction they came back to settle on his.

_Take care of her._

Daryl understood the message perfectly. He stepped forward, nodded once. Jim seemed to grasp his answer, and relaxed against the bark as he walked down the hill and left Nora alone.

She came back to the road a few minutes later, face blank. Daryl saw the tears welling in her empty eyes as she retreated into the RV without a word.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Content Warning!

* * *

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France!"

Nora laughed along with the rest of the group when Carl blanched at his first taste of wine. She didn't know if it was because she was sitting in a normal chair, or behind a locked door, or eating a hot spaghetti dinner, or that she was on her second Soco and cola, or some combination; either way, she was feeling better than she could ever remember feeling.

"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud."

"Not you Glenn."

"What?"

Daryl sauntered over close to where she sat and filled an empty cup with straight Southern Comfort. It must have been for Glenn since he appeared to have no qualms about drinking directly from the bottle.

"Keeping drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get."

Nora laughed again and threw back the rest of her drink. It felt amazing to let go and stop worrying. She rose to make another, clapping awkwardly when the group raised a cheer in Jenner's name.

"Here's to you doc. Booyah!"

Daryl leaned against the counter, a gun shoved down the front of his pants and the bottle in his hand. She came close to him, reaching out to pull it away. He smirked, refusing to release it but tipping a healthy serving into her glass.

"Forget the coke."

"But I _like_ the coke."

"Forget the coke. This ain't LA, darlin'. This is_ Georgia_."

Nora took a sip, smiling as the spicy warmth spread over her tongue. She liked it when he called her "darlin'".

–––

Daryl didn't bother dealing with the empty bottle, choosing instead to leave on the floor of his room when he left to seek out another one from the cafeteria. He ripped the wrapping off with his teeth and took a swig. He didn't care if anyone else joined him; he was going to get shit-faced tonight and if it ended up being a one man party so be it.

As he made his way back down the hall towards his room, a door was flung open ten feet in front of him. Jacqui's voice rang out.

"Ok, goodnight honey! And drink a glass of water or you'll wish you had in the morning!"

Out stumbled Nora holding a bundle in one hand and kicking the door shut with a foot. He also happened to notice that she wore nothing but a towel wrapped around her middle. She used her free hand to push her damp hair out of her face, and then noticed him.

"Some kinda' party in there I wasn' invited to?"

He took another swallow, not caring if she saw his eyes roving over her. She shouldn't be running around the hall half naked if she didn't want him looking. Nora smiled crookedly.

"Not really."

She stepped closer.

"Seems my bag was misplaced when we got here, and Jacqui just came and told me it was in her room," she was awfully close now, "innit that funny?"

He didn't know where the twang in her voice had suddenly come from, but he couldn't have cared less in this moment. His eyes had just fallen on the pile of clothes in her hands; he choked, coughed, looked closer. On top of the plain sweats and t-shirt were a couple of very intriguing things made out of black lace. No bows or jewels or cutesy days of the week. Just sheer, black lace.

"You aways got those things on under yer jeans?"

His voice sounded thick. She smiled lazily. Her response made his tongue dry.

"Everyday."

Nora's arms brushed against his chest.

"Just cause the world is over doesn't mean I don't still like lookin' nice," she met his eyes through her lashes, "that I don't still like feelin' nice."

He backed her up against the wall. The bottle hung forgotten at his side; his other hand planted next to her head.

"Can I tell you something, Daryl?"

She smelled clean, like soap and fresh towels. Maybe a little like magnolias. He noticed a small freckle under her left collarbone; he wanted to touch it, with his fingers, with his mouth. He grunted when she raised a hand behind his head and lightly ran her nails through his hair.

"When Jim got sunstroke, I tried to bring him water but Shane wouldn't let me."

He listened with foggy ears, unsure where she was going.

"Do you wanna know what I kept thinking...over and over again?"

Heat spread rapidly through his body as she leaned her mouth right next to his ear; her lips brushed against his neck.

"I wished you were there. Wanna know why?"

"Yeah."

Then she arched her body against his, and he became breathlessly aware that she was bare behind the towel. His fingers itched to rip it off and drag her somewhere private. He couldn't remember which way his room was.

"'Cause I knew you would _make _them listen. You'd let me do whatever I wanted to do. Wouldn't you, Daryl?"

His name crossed her lips in a purr. A very small part of his brain wondered where the hell the Nora he knew had gone, but its voice was stamped into dust by every other part of him. Her toes wiggled underneath the cuff of his pant leg; he gripped her bare thigh, pulling her more firmly against him.

"S'far as I'm concerned you can do anything you want."

Her teeth gently closed on his earlobe. He growled low in his chest. Where the _fuck_ was his room? His fingers tightened on her leg, and she made a soft sound that was the sexiest goddamn sound he had ever heard.

Jacqui's door flew open. They pulled apart sluggishly as she came into the hall.

"Nora-! Oh!" the interruption, combined with the smirk that grew on her face, made Daryl want to drop kick her out of the state.

"I was just checking to see if you'd put your clothes on yet, but **obviously**," _don't push yer lucky lady_, "you haven't."

"Daryl! Darrrryylll!"

Was there a place, a mountaintop, a desert island, a goddamn tree house with a retractable rope ladder where he could carry her and not have to worry about anything but making that sound come outta her again?

Glenn wove down the hall with an empty glass in his hand.

"M'face sisn't redyet, Daryl! Hey, where'sher pants?"

"I'm gonna get this one dressed," Jacqui steered Nora away, "We'll find y'all in a bit."

–––

Glenn's arm dangled off the couch as he breathed loudly. He was passed out and Daryl wasn't too far behind him. Jacqui had never brought Nora to find them, and he wasn't sure how much time had past. Daryl stumbled into the hall, trying to remember the name on the front of his room. He had no idea where Nora was; he hadn't thought to watch what room she had disappeared into and he had never felt more stupid or more pissed.

He leaned against a wall, an image of how that black lace might look on her pale skin burning into his eyes. He wanted to rip them off with his teeth; he bet she'd like that. He bet she'd beg him for more if he did that.

_Dr. Arnold Roy_.

He remembered because of _Roy_, like his old man. He'd found his own room, anyway.

_Tomorrow._

It was just one night. He could wait one night. Probably.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: I can't believe how wonderful you have all been! Thanks for reading!

* * *

Nora rolled onto her back, coughing when something tickled her throat. When the sensation persisted, she raised a hand to her face without opening her eyes; her hair was in her mouth. She dragged it out and cracked an eye. The room was unfamiliar but she remembered where she was.

Looking down, Nora saw that she had managed to wriggle into a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. She remembered Jacqui laughing as she drunkenly struggled and tumbled onto the bed.

"Sweetie, I'm getting you that glass of water now before you go, _or do_, anything else."

" 'm fine."

"Uh huh."

By the time Jacqui got back she had been drifting off on the oh so comfortable bed. She'd fought to be allowed to just go to sleep. Considering her lack of headache, it occurred to her that she owed the other woman an enormous thank you for insisting she finish what had seemed like the biggest glass of water in the world.

Memories of showers and hallways and Daryl Dixon rushed into her mind. She put her hands over her red face, wondering how drunk he had been, wondering if he'd remember anything this morning. There was a reason she had never enjoyed a beer with the group around the fire pit; it did not take much for her carefully constructed control to be crumpled and tossed out the window. And a couple of beers was nothing compared to several helpings of Southern Comfort. She winced; she had hoped these people would never see her that way.

Nora flipped over and buried her face in the pillow as it grew progressively more red. She remembered the way his fingers had felt on her skin; the way his blue eyes had burned into her and made her knees turn to jelly, made her say all kinds of things that now made her grip her head in embarrassment.

This was not the moment for pursuing an infatuation. Damn it, she had left Jim by the side of the road yesterday and all she could think about was what Daryl might have done had Jacqui and Glenn minded their own business.

She peeked at the chair nearby, on which sat her foldable travel clock. 8:45. She hoped there would be some kind of breakfast to be had before she had to face him again.

–––

Whether by nature or training, Daryl had always been an early riser. He lay in Dr. Arnold Roy's office, wide awake, by six in the morning. By half past the hour, he was digging through the desk drawers, the closet, Roy's coat pockets. He had a feeling the doctor had been cheating on his wife; his planner had several scrawled entries of 'Melissa 2pm' and the box of condoms in his briefcase seemed to cement the theory.

Daryl regarded the small cardboard box for a moment before tossing it on top of his bag. Good ol' Dr. Roy may have made things a little bit less complicated for him. He wondered if she was awake yet.

He began to hear movement outside a couple of hours later. He pulled on a shirt and shoes and followed the early risers towards the cafeteria. They moaned, popping aspirin and resting heads on the table. Daryl filled a mug with hot coffee; he may not be able to party like a twenty year old no more, but he clearly handled his liquor better than most of these lightweights. He leaned against the counter, feeling impatient.

Dale spoke.

"And here comes the layabout!"

A few people chuckled as Daryl turned his head and saw her. Nora was dressed in the sweats and t-shirt she'd held last night, hair twisted out of her face. She rubbed her head and waved stiffly, yet he knew in an instant she was faking. He'd never seen someone as hungover as she acted with such clear eyes. She went over to the row of mugs and hot drinks. He went to fill a second cup of coffee.

Daryl allowed his arm to brush hers as he reached for the pot. He thought he felt her shiver; she gazed up at him. For the first time he realized that he had a clean six inches over her. Tonight suddenly felt years away.

–––

The information presented by Jenner had not made him feel better, any more than the way the doctor had clammed up afterwards. The bottle from last night was still half full; he leaned against the hallway wall, sipping. She came around the corner, forehead knit with what looked like worry. She had frowned slightly as Jenner spoke, eyes on him rather than the projection on the screen.

"Hey."

Nora looked over, her cheeks tinged pink.

"Hey."

Daryl took a swig. He gestured with the bottle.

"Which one of these luxury homes do you call yer own?"

Nora watched him carefully for a moment, then leaned against the door directly next to his own.

"Home sweet home."

He wanted to punch a wall. Squinting at the nameplate, he snorted.

"Dr. Larry Partridge? Does he run a family band on the side?"

She gave him an odd look.

"You watch The Partridge Family?"

"No," he sipped again, "but I don't live under a rock neither."

When she opened the door he followed her in. Her bag now lay on the floor; a familiar towel was hanging over a chair. She sat on the bed, frowning again, accepting the bottle when he offered.

"Doc's a bucket a' laughs, ain't he?"

"I don't trust him."

It was his turn to frown. Jenner seemed like a boring summabitch but he hadn't felt any real reason to suspect him of nothing. She hesitated.

"He reminds me of my father."

Daryl had no idea what that meant; his mind brought up memories of his own pa, and if Nora's old man was anything like his own he wanted to find him and curb stomp his face. The lights flickered, then turned off.

–––

–––

"What's going on? Why's everything turned off?"

Jenner pulled the bottle from Daryl's hand as he past. Nora rose with a creeping feeling of dread in her stomach. Something about the man, his precise speech and emotionless explanations had made her feel nine years old again. Made her feel an odd combination of suspicion and helplessness. She hated it.

"Its not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down."

The child in her warned her to get out _now._ She grabbed her bag; as she passed, she saw Daryl's small satchel and snatched it up too.

"Hey. Hey! What the hell's that mean?"

She trailed after the group, listening to Daryl growl at Jenner. She wondered if she should tell the others to get their stuff, but felt silly. There was absolutely no basis for the need besides her own childishness.

"Hey, man, I'm talking to you. What do you mean it's shutting itself down? How can a building do anything?"

When Jenner continued to coldly dictate the current international research between sips of liquor, Nora wanted to shrink into the ground. Something was very wrong. She knew people like Jenner; when they seemed their calmest terrible things happened. Shane stood closest to her, hands on his hips. He scoffed at something the doctor said, and the pair of them made eye contact. He saw the fear leaking out onto her face. He raised his eyebrows; Nora looked first at Jenner, back to Shane, and then slowly shook her head. She didn't think he fully understood her, but advanced on Jenner anyway.

The alarm started blaring; she felt nauseous, frozen to the spot. The others ran for the doors; they sealed tight with a hiss.

"You son of bitch! _You locked us in here_? You lying-"

Somewhere she heard men pulling Daryl away from Jenner as he snarled like a wild thing. The air felt heavy and unbreathable; she silently climbed the steps to the platform, dropping into a chair before she fainted. The bags landed on the floor with a dull _thump_. Trapped. She was trapped.

"It's better this way."

Her teeth were clenched so tightly her jaw hurt._ It's better this way_. She could run away, fight in every way she knew how, the whole world could end, but there would always be someone there telling her that they knew better. That she didn't know what she wanted. That their plans were for her benefit.

–––

_They had been in the same Youth Choir for a couple of years; she knew her name was Angela, but they hadn't really ever spoken. When the other girl came over she wasn't sure what to do._

"_Hey, so a couple of us were gonna go out after this and we were wondering if you wanted to come with?"_

_She looked up from her sheet music, unsure but desperately trying to not show it._

"_Go out where?"_

"_I don't know. There's this cool club in town. Maybe there?"_

_Fighting a blush with every fiber of her being, she shook her head._

"_Sorry, I'm only sixteen. I can't get in."_

_Angela's eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned in._

"_Me too! I've got a fake you can use!"_

_She couldn't believe it when the bouncer nodded her in. She'd never been in a club before; it was loud, everyone looked older and attractive and so incredibly cool. The other girls ordered drinks and then dragged her onto the dance floor. She decided she liked dancing. She had to yell over the music to get Angela's attention._

"_What that called?"_

"_A screwdriver! Get one! You'll like it!"_

_Intoxicated purely on the rush of being in the club, she decided she wanted to be intoxicated in other ways too. She stood at the bar, unsure how to flag down a bartender._

"_Eleanor Bellamy?"_

_A man in a suit stood behind her. She didn't know him, didn't know how he knew her name. His face was serious._

"_Look, Miss Bellamy, I am willing to omit this exact location and its age restrictions, but if you do what I believe you are about to do I will have to include it in my report to your parents."_

_She stared. He had followed her here. Mother and Father had her followed. **Paid** someone to follow her and report her actions. To spy on her. She turned and walked out the door; it had begun to rain. She didn't care._

–––

–––

"No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret."

Maybe she wanted to feel those things. Maybe she would rather feel the pain of a thousand dead hands ripping her to pieces before she was willing to accept living an entire life feeling nothing. Maybe she would rather have known Jim and been happy for a time even if it meant she had to feel gut wrenching sorrow when she lost him. Maybe she would rather enjoy the feeling of Daryl Dixon's whiskers scratching her cheek, his hands on her bare skin even if it meant she might regret it in the morning.

But no matter where she went there was always someone there making her choices for her. She was tired. She didn't want to fight anymore. If this was what life was like, then she was happy to lay down and let it end.


	13. Chapter 12

Daryl felt like an animal caught in a net. He had an odd vision of a possum in a cage; he brushed it aside. He couldn't stand still. Nora slumped into a chair. He stalked over to her.

"If this _bastard_ thinks he can keep us here he's gotta 'nother thing comin'! I'll kick his fuckin' teeth in!"

"No."

His feet stopped moving but he felt himself vibrating. She didn't look at him. She looked straight forward. Her eyes weren't blank; they were dead. It was the worst thing he had ever seen. Something was boiling up and out of him. For a moment he thought he was going to explode. He was so goddamn furious with her, he wanted to tear Jenner into bloody pieces, and he wanted out of this fucking building now.

Daryl ran at the door, flinging the bottle at hard as he could at the metal.

"_Open the damn door_!"

When T-Dog threw an axe his way he caught it without thinking. He swung it at the door with everything he had, again, and again, and again.

_How dare she give up? How dare she leave him here alone?_

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher."

His vision went red. A bloodlust like he had never felt coursed burning hot through him. Swinging the axe over head, he flew at Jenner roaring.

**"_Well your head ain't_!"**

It took three men to hold him back from bashing the doctor's ugly fucking face in. The axe was ripped from his hands; he spun on his heel and paced, his blood on fire. If that'd how all these assholes wanted it, wanted to be burned to a goddamn crisp at the C.D.C. House a' Barbeque, _fine_. They were welcome to sit back and enjoy the last twenty minutes of their lives. He was getting out with or without them. She hadn't moved. He glared, hating whoever it was sitting like a useless lump in that chair. That wasn't her; she wouldn't of given up so easily. It hurt to move, but it hurt worse to stand still.

"This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event."

Nora let out a soft, shuddering breath. When she slipped her hand into his he stopped pacing. His hand was hot and sweaty, her's clammy. She laced her fingers through his and he did the same, squeezing tightly. Jenner's words didn't affect him in the least. There was no way he was dying here, that he was gonna let her die here, in a cage.

"I think you're lying about no hope."

Daryl saw her process Rick's words. Something sparked in her dead eyes. Something was in them again.

"There's always hope."

Even as she murmured the three short words, he was grabbing both axes and back at the door. That was all he needed.

_There's always hope._

_There's always hope._

_There's always hope._

It didn't matter to him if the whole world was in the shitter. It didn't matter to him if he never ate nothing but squirrel again. So long as someone, somewhere, believed that there was a chance. So long as someone believed that he had a chance, he would never stop fighting.

The door slid open, disappearing into the ground.

"COME ON!"

Nora looked up as he hollered. Something small, but growing stronger, was flickering in her eyes. She hoisted the bags onto her shoulders and ran to him. He grabbed her by the upper arm and together they bolted. It didn't matter to him if anyone else was behind them; as they clambered up the stairs, their fingers entangled once again. Bright sunlight made his eyes water as they busted into the windowed lobby. Daryl hit the ground as Rick pulled the pin from the grenade. The carpet smelled new. Glass sprayed across his back, stinging but he never stopped; he couldn't stop now. He kept going, chopping walkers to bits as they came at him. Under the stentch of death, he could smell grass. He wrenched the door open to his truck and leapt in, heaving Nora in behind him.

_They were out._

He heard the rumble beginning and he threw himself down on top of her. Heat lashed at his back. His ears rung.

_They were out._

Daryl's breath heaved out of him. He raised his head to see if it was clear. A fireball raged where the C.D.C. had been moments before. Where they had been moments before. Nora was curled up in a ball on the seat of his truck, hand trembling as it clutched her head. The other was safely laced with his.

When he turned on the engine, he had no idea where they were planning on going next. For the moment he was content to simply follow the van in front of him. To feel Nora's hand against his own.

She leaned her head towards the open window, breathing deeply; the wind caught her hair and whipped it across her face. She looked calm, her eyes had come back to life. Her expression mirrored his thoughts perfectly.

They were free.


	14. Chapter 13

.._.I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray halflight where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves..._

Nora rested her head against the window pane, legs tucked underneath her and _The Sound and the Fury_ open on her lap. The RV bounced gently along the road, but she never got car sick. She allowed Faulkner's words to pour over her, her mind's eye sinking into the yellowing pages. It was in these rare moments, both before and after the dead had risen, that she could fully escape. There had been an expectation her whole life to read only the standard classics that would assign the adjective "well-read" to her resume. At night in bed, after her parents had thought she was asleep, she had devoured Michael Crichton, Anaïs Nin, Dan Brown, J.K. Rowling. This was the first time she had been able to read Faulkner without a sour taste in her mouth. She wondered how she might feel about the Brontes now, or D.H. Lawrence or Hemmingway.

"Oh jeez..."

She looked up when the caravan came to a stop, noticing for the first time the vehicles littering the interstate. The book fluttered closed before she could remember to mark her page. There were six people stuffed into the RV: Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn, T-Dog and herself. They all sat in watchful silence as the Winnebago was slowly maneuvered through the snarl of empty cars. Nora could hear the rumble of the motorcycle that surely led them, and felt comforted. It melted away instantly when the floor shuddered beneath her and the engine began to hiss and steam.

"C'mon y'all. Look around, gather what you can."

As she moved to join the group, she walked past the motorcycle. There was room in seat for two people; she wondered if she would ever be brave enough to ride it, wondered if she would ever be brave enough to ask. She wasn't sure.

She and Daryl had not had much interaction since the C.D.C. In the hustle to reorganize, to downsize vehicles and decide where to go next, there hadn't been any time to do anything but keep their heads above water. Maybe when they got to Fort Benning she would say something. By then she would have enough time to think through exactly _what_ to say and be able to do it without turning red.

A baby's bottle lay on the pavement, still full. Next to it was a little girl's backpack, with a coloring book peeking out. Nora's stomach clenched unpleasantly.

"You okay?"

It was T-Dog who asked. She took a breath and nodded, tried to smile but failed. He seemed to understand. He patted her on the back and continued into the jumble of cars. She followed, not knowing what else to do. As he siphoned gas out of a Cadillac, she rummaged through the back seat. There were two duffel bags. According to old airline tags, they both belonged to a Mrs. Alma King. One was filled primarily with family pictures, albums, framed diplomas; she set it aside. The other looked more promising. Clothes, a pair of hiking boots in her size, and...

_Praise the lord._

Not one, but _two_ brand new bottles of SPF 45. She moved to set them by her feet and her eyes noticed something perched on the passenger seat. If Alma had been present she would have hugged her. A straw gardening hat sat there neatly. She defied the scorching Georgia sun to reach her beneath its gloriously wide brim. She borrowed a canvas bag from under the driver's seat, filled it with the boots and sunscreen and, with the hat on her head, moved on to another car.

"Jesus, you think yer Mother Goose or somethin'?"

With his crossbow slung casually over a shoulder, Daryl stood behind her. Resisting the urge to ask if he thought he was Pig-Pen- how on _Earth_ had he managed to get that filthy already?-she shrugged.

"I was going for Scarlet O'Hara."

He snorted. When she went back to looking through the trunk, he used an arrow to pry open the fuel door and stuck a hose inside to collect gas. This had been a younger man's car; he had thrown a bunch of clothes and shoes into the trunk without bothering to use a suitcase. She held up a blue cotton button-up. Size M. She wondered what his size was. If he didn't have the habit of ripping out all of his tags, she might have been able to figure it out when she did laundry. Nora glanced over at his strong shoulders; she was pretty sure a medium would fit him, but then again she didn't know the first thing about men's clothes. He looked up, arrow shaft held in his teeth, and saw her watching him. She looked away quickly. The shirt was the same color as his eyes.

"Ow! Hey!"

Faintly, she heard Glenn's protests. Shane was pushing him under a truck. Were they fighting? Nora squinted their way, confused. Out of nowhere, an iron grip had her around the waist yanking her towards the ground. A strangled cry of surprise bubbled out of her throat but it was immediately cut off by an equally firm hand over her mouth. It was only when she was fully dragged under a nearby car that she realized it was Daryl; she stopped struggling, looking at him with perplexed eyes. He held a finger to his lips, nodding in the direction of the RV.

Walkers. Dozens of them, shuffling and moaning as they trudged their way. She shrank against him, biting her lip to keep from whimpering even though he had not moved his hand. Slowly, to avoid making noise, he pulled his crossbow towards him. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she was sure he must be able to feel it. He met her eyes; she felt safe despite the dead that dragged closer.

Something stumbled by their car; blood dripped onto the road. Nora's eyes widened in horror as she realized it was T-Dog. He slumped against a nearby car, clutching his arm that bled. Had he been bit? His head swung feverishly from side to side, unable to find a hiding space. Walkers must have smelt the blood; she could hear their awful sounds, much nearer than before. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, Nora knew she couldn't lay here and watch him get torn to pieces.

She had barely moved an inch when Daryl jerked her back. He glared, face stormy.

"But-"

The hand was back. She pleaded with her eyes, desperate for him to understand.

_We can't just leave him!_

His eyes flickered to T-Dog. Time was running out. She tried to wiggle free again, but froze at the look he gave her. His sharp gaze flashed over the situation; before he dropped the hand, he gave her one more firm glare.

_Don't you dare move or make a sound._

Nora was horrified when he rolled out from their hiding place and disappeared behind an overturned pickup. She wanted to call out to him, to follow him, but knew somehow that was the last thing he wanted. The closest walker growls she had yet heard erupted not ten feet away. She looked back at T-Dog who backed up weakly against a tire.

There was another moan then a sound that was terrible mixture of a crack and a squelch. The walker fell to the ground in front of him as Daryl tore an arrow from the back of its head. He held his finger to his lips again, this time with his eyes fixed on T-Dog. Nora trembled; she couldn't look away as he threw the dead walker on top of the other man and pulled a different reeking corpse onto himself.

Time crept by as the herd passed. From her hiding place she couldn't see far in the direction they had come from, but the interstate had returned to relative quiet once again. A pool of blood glistened in the sunlight; with T-Dog bleeding that heavily, there wasn't time to wait. She shimmied out from under the car; Daryl was pulling T-Dog up.

Nora ripped off her button up as she hurried to them, the sun instantly heating the skin left uncovered by her tank top. Memories of lying sprawled on the couch, skipping class and watching reruns of _House_ or _ER_ on daytime television flashed through her mind. Hoping there was a shred of medical accuracy in what she had seen, she fell to her knees and immediately pressed the fabric hard onto the wound.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Daryl tied his bandana just under T-Dog's elbow, attempting to cut off blood flow, even as he yelled. Who needed Dr. House when they had Dr. Dixon Medicine Man? She hung his other arm around her shoulders.

"We need to get him to the RV."

"I'm _talkin_' to you, you crazy bitch! I asked what the hell is wrong with you?"

Daryl grabbed T-Dog's other arm and helped drag him. Nora ignored him, focusing on not vomiting at the sight of the blood soaking into her clothes. The straw hat lay forgotten on the ground.


	15. Chapter 14

The sun was sinking, casting an orange light over the interstate. Daryl revved down the motorcycle once he had it properly positioned; they had made a sort of triangle of vehicles with the RV and Cherokee as two sides and some stupid Hyundai, that Daryl wouldn't be caught dead driving, as the third. He parked the bike inside the makeshift ring and got off.

They had not been able to find the little girl. Her mother sat crying softly as Lori offered comfort. Daryl had followed her trail until there wasn't one left to follow no more; he and Rick had done everything they could've before night began to fall. There wasn't anything else to do before they had daylight again. He knew that. They'd cut open a damn walker and dug through its guts, which was more than anyone could've asked them to do. He knew that. So why did he feel like he'd done something wrong? Like he'd failed, or whatever. It wasn't his problem to start with.

His discomfort turned to a cold stone of frustration in his chest when he saw Nora slip between the fenders and onto the highway.

_Sonnuva goddamn bitch_.

This is just what he needed right now. To have her wandering around in the dark. Oh good, she had a baseball bat with her. Because it'd been so fuckin' useful to her in the past. Because she was a regular Babe Ruth and knew how to use it. He stomped after her, crossbow bouncing roughly against his tired back.

_Goddamnit goddamnit goddamnit._

She still hadn't explained herself from earlier. Why she had suddenly decided to grow a pair and run around like chicken without a head in front of hundreds of walkers. Well, maybe not hundreds, but one or one thousand it didn't make a difference with her. She was just as useless in either case.

"Hey!"

She was bent over, picking something off the ground. She looked up in surprise. He felt like all he did was glare at her these days.

"You got a death wish I don' know about?"

To her credit she looked a little ashamed. Daryl didn't care. It didn't make up for acting brainless on a regular basis. When he saw what she held he had to actively restrain himself from shaking her. The hat. The stupid piece of shit Mother Goose hat. That was why she'd come out here. He wanted to tear it apart and set it on fire. His rage must have shown on his face, because she swept it behind her back and looked away. He clenched his jaw.

"I asked you a damn question, _woman_."

Nora tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You saved him."

He stared, taking him a minute to realize what the hell she was talking about.

"'What else was I 'sposed to do?"

She raised and lowered a shoulder.

"You could've left him."

He pushed his face close to hers with narrowed eyes.

"And let _you_ waltz yer _useless_ ass out there and get the pair of ya' killed?"

"You could've."

He remembered the way her breath felt against his neck in the hall at the C.D.C., and pulled away, scowling.

"Well I didn', so if you would be so kind as to stop roamin' around in the dark _I'd sure appreciate it._"

He made sure the last words came out in a snarl, just so she knew it didn't matter to him either way. He hated it when a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"It was brave."

Daryl spat, looking away.

"And it was brave of you to go out looking for Sophia."

He flinched when her fingers brushed his arm.

"You'll find her tomorrow."

"Quit touchin' on me and get movin'."

She grabbed something from the trunk before following after him. Before they reentered the triangle of cars, she held it out to him.

"Thought it might fit."

It was a shirt. A nice one, too. Something Daryl would've never worn six months ago. It was made of something like soft, lightweight denim. She shoved it into his hands and walked away before he had a chance to respond.

–––

"I won't do it. We can't just leave."

"Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak."

'What if she comes back, and we're not here? Could happen."

The possibility made Nora shiver. She imagined being Sophia's age, going through what she had been through in the last couple of days, and then making it back only to have been left behind.

"If Sophia made her way back and we were gone, that would be awful."

She nodded, stomach still twisting. But what were their options? Things had gone from bad to worse, all because of the stupid interstate. She wished they'd never tried to weave through, that they had just turned around and then none of this would have happened. Now the group was split, Carl was lying somewhere shot with his grieving parents, and Sophia was nowhere to be found. As emotions began bubbling out of the place she kept locked up, hopelessness started to smother her.

'Ok. We gotta plan for this."

Daryl spoke; she listened, willing his words to not be harsh. For Carol's sake. Since Lori was whisked away to be with her family, by a girl on a horse no less, Nora had observed the gap her absence had left open. When someone was going through something, anything, it had always been Lori who was there with a hug and calm words. She was Rick's wife; the pair of them always knew what to do. But now they had their own problems.

As the search group made their way back to the highway, she had watched Carol's devastated face and wished she knew how to help. When tears had begun to silently stream from her eyes, Nora had pushed her awkwardness aside and wove an arm through the other woman's. Carol had wiped her nose and looked at her in surprise; they had never really spoken, which was true of Nora and many of the others. She worried Carol might pull away, reject her clumsy attempt at comfort. But she had reached across her body and squeezed Nora's hand, giving a small, watery smile. Now they stood together as Daryl spoke.

"I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."

Nora had to work to keep the bewildered expression out of her eyes. Was Daryl Dixon being...thoughtful?

"If the RV is staying, then I'm staying too."

"I'm in."

There was no way she was leaving Carol now. When the other woman reached out her arms for a hug, Nora was sure she knew it too. Dale worked to persuade Glenn to take T-Dog to others. Daryl went to the motorcycle.

"He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm, see if they have any antibiotics."

He came back holding a lump of cloth and a ziplock bag. He chucked the former at Dale.

"Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle."

_Charming._

"Why'd you wait til now to say anything? I've got my brother's stash. Crystal...X... don't need that... here's some kick ass pain killers. Doxycycline. And that ain't the generic stuff neither. That's first class."

Apparently there was no end to the surprises tonight. Although he muttered something about it being for Merle's occasional "clap", Daryl could not play down that he was not only sticking around to help find a missing child, but also doling out his brother's medications to help someone. She thought back to earlier days when people had skirted him by the quarry, how he had sat idly by while Merle mouthed off crudely, how he had been more likely to punch someone's teeth in then speak two civil words.

Even in those early days, Nora had observed how the man who was generally considered dangerous had never failed to bring back food to feed the entire camp. No one had asked him to; as far as anyone was concerned his only obligation was to look after himself. And yet off he would go a couple times a week, dragging Merle along, to bring them squirrel or rabbit or deer if he could. Maybe no one else had bothered to notice, but she had.

Daryl was no feral alley cat. Behind his spitting and snarling and under the grim, he was a decent human being. She watched him tuck the meds back into the motorcycle bag; he was wearing the shirt she had given him the night before. The sleeves had been hacked off and it was covered in sweat and the dirt that he seemed to attract like a magnet, but she knew it instantly.

After a meal of cold beans and Spaghettios, they all filed into the RV to try to get some sleep; it was soon clear that it would not come to any of them easily. Even if Carol had not been whimpering softly on the bunk, or if Andrea had chosen a different time to fiddle with her weapon, Nora still lay wide awake on her side. It was muggy, and for whatever reason she was keenly aware that Daryl lay on the floor near her head. She wondered if he faced the other way on purpose. She gazed at his shoes; the C.D.C. drifted into her thoughts. She felt a flush rise into her cheeks.

When he sat up suddenly, she thought she had been caught. Sweat clung to his collarbone; he gnawed his lip, looking her way but not seeing her. Then he stood and walked out of sight. She heard him rustling around, heard Andrea stop tinkering. He spoke to her quietly. Nora strained to hear what he said, but it was lost behind Carol's crying. She heard him leave with Andrea in tow.

Nora lay very still for moment or two. Carol sniffled; Dale shifted overhead. A sharp, hollow feeling began to stab at her, spreading slowly. She thought back to their interactions; his exasperation, his disinterestedness. It had seemed... she had been _sure_ it was a defense mechanism. It was the same way he treated everyone else.

_The same way he treated everyone else._

He never asked her to come with him anywhere. He'd yelled at her for trying to go twenty feet outside of camp. He'd called her useless. Andrea wasn't useless. She had a gun and wasn't afraid to use it. She'd stabbed a walker with a screwdriver.

As the realization came over her, Nora wasn't sure what to feel. Embarrassment, certainly. She'd acted like a drunk teenager and thrown herself at him. But more than anything, more than confusion or jealousy or anything else, she felt so incredibly stupid.

Stupid for acting like child when the world was falling to pieces. Stupid for what he must think of her. Stupid for reading into something that wasn't there.


	16. Chapter 15

SOPHIA STAY HERE

Nora carefully used a bar of soap to write the message. Carol hovered nearby, hands clutching her chest. As he placed a flashlight on a folded blanket, Daryl saw Nora continue to write. Her handwriting was neat and clear.

WE WILL COME EVERY DAY

Carol made a soft sound in her throat. He thought it was a nice touch, thought about saying it but didn't get a chance when the two women walked back to the RV. She didn't look at him. He frowned, perched on the motorcycle. Dale honked, signifying that everyone was ready to go. As the wind tore through his hair, Daryl thought over the last several hours.

They'd all gone on the search for Sophia; she didn't turn up but nothing else had seemed out of the ordinary. Next had been a mostly quiet dinner, everything pretty normal again. He'd gone out to look around after dark; she'd looked normal before he left, not sleeping but normal. When he got back Nora was still laying on the padded seat across from the bunk, with her back to him now. He'd slung off his crossbow; the way she laid there made it look like she was sleeping, but her breathing told him she was awake. When he settled back on the floor, she did not move. Was she faking on purpose? He'd brushed it aside, resting his head on his hands and watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

After a couple hours of shallow sleep, he woke up to her gingerly stepping around him. He moved, grunting as his sore muscles woke up. She did not pause; without looking at him she went out the door. He'd rubbed at his eyes.

_Good fuckin' morning to you too._

Her weird behavior had gone on all morning. She didn't meet his eyes, didn't speak to him, didn't even act like he was there. And it was beginning to piss him off.

The farm was a nice one with a big old white house. It looked like an ad from a travel magazine. _Georgia: life here's just peachy!_ He hung back from the others, unsure what to say.

"How is he?"

"He'll pull through."

That was good news at least. For a second there the kids in the group had a zero for two losing streak. At least Carl was gonna be fine. Now all he had to do was find Sophia.

She was helping unpack the gear now. A shady area in front of the house had been chosen for their camp; it had good sight lines, good proximity to wells and the road. He grabbed his own tent and sleeping bag, throwing them over his shoulder as he looked over the space for a decent looking plot. Nora's back was to him again as she tinkered with metal rods. Her spot was right between two big trees on the side of the camp furthest from the house. There wasn't room for a family sized tent, but it was just about perfect for a pair of small ones.

His stuff hit the ground with a dusty _thump_. When Daryl began getting his space arranged, she walked back to the RV. Her tent was not put up, the rods laying half assembled on top. Jesus, did she find it that difficult? Watching her back disappear into the Winnebago- he was starting to get sick of seeing that side of her- his frown deepened. He would've helped her if she bothered to ask, but he sure as hell wasn't going to play into this weird bullshit she'd been pulling all day.

"Daryl! Come're for a minute!"

Rick, Shane and some others stood around the hood of a pickup. One of the younger women who lived at the farm rolled out a map and held it down with rocks.

"County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations."

He let his eyes scan the paper; it was one thing to get a feel for the land on foot, but quite a different game to have an overhead view. He could see where they'd sat on the interstate in relation to where he stood now, saw how the creek cut through and where they had unknowingly missed spots. He decided it was in Sophia's best interest to just go back to where this whole thing started and branch out from there. The farmer, Herschel, insisted that neither Rick nor Shane was fit to go until at least the next day. He didn't mind getting started alone.

"Guess'ts just me. I'm gonna head back to the creek. Work my way from there."

"First things first. Set camp. Find Sophia."

There she was, walking away again. He followed as she moved towards the old water pump around the side of the house. When she began filling a bucket he started to get seriously pissed off. It was like he wasn't even there.

"You gonna waste my time or not?"

She kept working at the pump. At a different moment in time, he might of liked watching the way her hand worked over the bar; right now it was just making him more angry.

"I'm talkin' to you."

"I hear you."

Blood was beginning to pound in him ears.

"You got somethin' you wanna say to me, or what?"

She shook her head. He had to stop himself from kicking the bucket over, just to spite her.

"Don' know why I'm wastin' my breath on a no good, snivelin', stuck-up bitch anyways."

Daryl didn't exactly know why he said it, or what he wanted to make her to do in response. Cry, maybe. Yell at him. Prove him right. Certainly not apologize or anything pointless like that. Nora looked up, her face perfectly blank.

"Neither do I."

Then she turned and took the water back to camp. He simply stood and stared forward. Wind chimes tinkled somewhere nearby. A thousand thoughts clawed each other like cats in his head. Some were rabid, half crazy with rage; others taunted the angry ones, yowling about how stupid they looked, how dumb they were; others still curled up in the corners, licking their raw open wounds. He turned on his heel and made a beeline for the forest before he had a chance to decide which thoughts he hated most.

"Daryl! You okay on your own?"

He wasn't in the mood to talk to no one, especially not Officer Friendly. When he let his guard down he just got distracted, and that was all that these people forced him to do. This was no time for distractions, for _feelings_ or crap like that. He had a task to accomplish.

"I'm _better _on my own."

"Hey!"

He paused when Rick called out again.

"We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now."

"You gotta point, or just chattin'?"

"My point is that it lets you off the hook. You don't owe us anything."

The look on the other man's face was earnest. Daryl knew somewhere deep down that Rick was not just a good man, but an honest one, which was more than plenty of people could say. He knew that he wanted to find Sophia and restore some level of whatever is was they now called normal; they had that in common. But unlike Rick, Daryl wasn't going to let himself be blinded by senseless connections. He had watched it tear the other man apart since the day they'd met. He couldn't allow himself that weakness.

"My other plans fell through."


	17. Chapter 16

He lingered at the spot where the creek ran alongside the boundary of the farm, holding his crossbow in one hand and the bottle that served as a vase in his other. Squinting against the late afternoon sun, Daryl scanned the campsite; he wasn't sure exactly how to go about doing this, and he really wasn't sure he wanted everyone to see him do it.

When he'd seen the flower he'd recognized it instantly, remembering the story from his childhood. His mind had pulled up images of Carol, her eyes tearful, clinging to any hope that her daughter might make it back to her alive. He thought of the little girl, Sophia; she was just a slip of a thing with great big nervous eyes. Back at the quarry camp it had not escaped his notice that way she looked at her old man, the fear. And it had not escaped his notice the way that bastard had looked at his daughter neither. He spat, wishing he'd had a chance to deck his ugly face once or twice before he became a walker buffet. Good riddance, anyway.

Daryl chewed on a blade of sweet grass. If he was gonna do this he needed to stop pussyfooting around, that was for sure. Maybe he'd just leave it in the RV for her to find. Its not like she could set it up in her tent, anyway. Deciding this was the most painless course of action, he moved to the Winnebago. It had not been part of the plan to find Carol sitting inside, mending; she looked up when he came in and he knew it wouldn't make sense to turn and leave now. He looked around. Everything was tidy, arranged in neat piles and scrubbed so it looked shiny and new.

"Cleaned up. I wanted it to be nice for her."

"For a second I thought I was in the wrong place."

It was an attempt at humor, but Daryl had never been very good at joking around. And then he saw Nora. She was sitting at the end of the seat closest to him, book in hand. While Carol had been clearly visible from the door, she had been hidden behind the wall until now. Her gaze was fixed firmly on the page in front of her. He wasn't sure that he wanted an audience for this, but didn't seem to have a choice. He placed his offering across from where they sat, standing awkwardly.

"A flower?"

"Its a Cherokee Rose."

He pulled the blade of grass out of his mouth, focusing his eyes on Carol. Part of him hoped she would know what he meant without him needing to explain; clearly that was not the case.

"The story is when American soldiers were movin' Indians off their land, on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much because they were losing their little ones along the way. Exposure, disease, starvation. A lot of 'em just disappeared."

She blinked heavily, understanding the meaning in his words. He continued; he knew Nora was listening but fought to ignore that fact.

"So the elders they said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits. Give 'em strength. Hope. The next day this rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell. I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers blooming for my brother. But... I believe this one, it bloomed for your little girl."

Shit. She was crying. Daryl was no good at handling crying women. She wiped her tears away with her fingers, looking to Nora. Before he ducked out, he cast a quick look at her; she was smiling softly at Carol, reassuring her he assumed. He paused at the top of the stairs, gnawed his lip.

"She's gonna really like it in here."

–––

–––

Nora stiffened when he came into the RV. She wondered if he was still angry from this morning; she immediately stuffed the thought away and tried to bury her mind in her book. After he put the flower on the table, however, her eyes did not take in another sentence. She listened to his story, the icy wall she'd built up around herself thawing as her heart broke bit by bit. Carol reached for her. She took her hand as he turned to leave.

"She's gonna really like it in here."

Tears pricked her eyes, and she just barely managed to hold them in. The door shut with a soft _click_. She looked for the first time at the flower. It was a simple white blossom with a spray of yellow at the middle. Her chest felt tight when she saw that he'd taken the time to find an old bottle to present it in.

All of the sudden she felt like the worst person in the world. She'd known all along that Daryl Dixon was a perfectly good person with a good heart under all his bravado, and yet she'd boxed him out over something as trifling as a stupid crush.

"You should go."

Carol's smile was tearful, but oddly knowing. Nora wasn't sure what she thought this was about; she wasn't sure herself. For the second time _The Sound and the Fury_ was shut without a bookmark. She put a hand over her eyes as she sought out his familiar shape, spotting him- in an odd twist of fate- heading towards the same water pump from earlier. She jogged after him.

–––

–––

He cupped his hand to catch the cool water, drinking until the dryness left his throat. Feeling that someone was behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the last person he expected to be there. She was panting; she had run to catch him. He leveled his eyes against hers, waiting. He didn't know what for. Nora scratched her leg with a foot.

"I'm sorry."

Daryl raised his eyebrows. She fidgeted, opting to sit on the stone platform that the pump was held in.

"I was completely out of line, and I didn't mean what I said, and I shouldn't've said it, I was just, I don't know, I was just...kind of...embarrassed, I guess...I don't know, but either way I'm sorry."

It had come tumbling out of her mouth in a tangled collection of words, but he caught the important ones. She was sorry. She didn't mean it. She was...embarrassed? He wasn't quite ready to let her off easy. Not until he understood everything, that is.

"Don' see what there was to be _embarrassed_ 'bout."

She sucked in a breath.

"I just...I mean I didn't...I don't know...I _didn't_ know that, you know..."

"Christ almighty, woman, spit it _out_."

"I didn't know about you and Andrea."

Silence rung in the air. Daryl stared. Something was tingling in his shoes.

"What about me an' her?"

When a blush began in her cheeks, the tingling began to spread up his legs.

"That you guys...you know..."

"I don' know."

She huffed with impatience.

"That you two had a...understanding, or whatever...you know."

There it was. He processed and tried to decide what to do with this information. She picked at her jeans when he didn't say anything.

"So...yeah. I didn't know, and I was embarrassed, and I'm sorry."

"I'd like to say I accept, but there ain't nothin' between me an' her so I don' know that I can."

The look on her face made him feel like a tomcat with a mouse caught by the tail. Her eyes widened; she sat frozen, making sense of what he said. He had the distinct impression that she wanted to bolt. She rose half an inch.

"Sit'own."

Nora obeyed immediately. He sat on the stone a couple of feet away, chewing the sweetgrass casually. _And now for the knock out_...

"What's it t'you anyways, who I may or may not have an _understandin'_ with?"

The tingling flowed down his arms and into his fingers. The flush faded slowly from her cheeks, as she rose her eyes from the ground to gaze out at the horizon. Although she never answered, he felt he knew what she was thinking. After a time, Nora turned to met his eyes; he noticed for the first time that they were the same warm color as a bar of chocolate. When she smiled she almost looked shy. Light freckles, that not even her beloved sunscreen could defy, dusted her nose.

Neither of them said anything, but Daryl knew that they shared something now, just the pair of them. Not that he had the first idea what to do, but he supposed it was something to know, anyway. They stayed put for a time as the sun sank behind the trees. The smells of wood smoke and dinner wafted over, breaking the stillness that held them. He offered her a hand up. She took it; for a brief moment their fingers laced before they broke apart.


	18. Chapter 17

A/N: I can never say enough how much I appreciate all the kind things you all have had to say! Thank you thank you thank you!

A particular shout out to GypsyWitchBaby: "Noryl" made me laugh out loud! You're the best!

* * *

Daryl sat in a camping chair examining his crossbow, checking for any fraying, or looseness or a need for oiling. Times like these required a weapon that was always tuned up. Nora came over, kicking his shoe gently with her toes. She still wore those stupid cloth lace-ups, although now they were coated in dust and tree sap. He looked up, and she held out a plate of eggs and beans. He took it, and she walked away. Daryl watched he go; he'd never in a million years say it to no one, but he liked it when she brought him food. It made him feel something, but he wasn't sure what.

When breakfast was over, he dumped his plate in the basin and then noticed she was hovering at his side. Nora offered him a clean shirt, fresh from the line, and he took a step towards her before accepting. He heard her breath catch in her throat; he looked down at her, feeling that same thing she always made him feel.

_What was it?_

She tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Come back."

His stomach did a backflip; images of her standing by the door to the moving truck, of a small blue bundle held in pale hands, played across his mind. One corner of his mouth tugged before he could stop it.

"Morning guys. Let's get going. We gotta lot of ground to cover."

Tearing himself away from her, he went to stand with the others by the county map. He threw on the shirt, doing up the buttons as Rick spoke.

"Alright. Everyone's getting new search grid today. If she made it as far as the farm house Daryl found she mighta made it further east than we been so far."

They discussed his discovery from the previous day, congratulated his good lead. He did up his top button, feeling self conscious.

"Maybe we'll pick her trail again."

"No maybe about it."

He leaned over the map, pointing out the area he planned to look over. They listened when he spoke.

"I'm gonna borrow a horse. Head up this ridge right here, get a bird's eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her."

"Good idea. Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there too."

Looking T-Dog over carefully, he tried to figure out if the comment was intended as a jab.

"Chupacabra?"

"You never heard that? First night in camp, Daryl tells us all about the time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra."

The kid from the farm snickered. Daryl bristled, gnawing his lip as his eyes narrowed. He could stomp the little shit's ass if he wanted to, and if he kept flapping his mouth like that he would definitely want to.

"What're you braying at jackass?"

"So, you believe in a blood sucking dog?"

"You believe in dead people walkin' around?"

The kid backed down. Daryl still eyed him unpleasantly, daring him to say something else. Instead, he reached out for a rifle. Rick stopped him, pulling the gun away.

"Hey, hey. You ever fire one before?"

"Well, if I'm going out I want one."

Daryl scoffed, throwing his crossbow over his back. Yeah, he bet he did. So's he could shoot himself in the foot the minute something startled him. This wasn't _True Grit_, and he sure as hell wasn't no John Wayne.

"Yeah. And people in hell want slurpees."

On his way to the stable he caught her eye again. She was pinning up more laundry, her hair tied loosely on top of her head. She wiped her forehead before seeing him. His pants were thrown across her shoulder. It suddenly occurred to him what it was that he felt with her. The feeling he had never known in his whole life.

She made him feel like someone another person depended on. Someone who was strong and provided for her and kept her safe. Someone who would be waiting for him when he got back. She made him feel like a man.

–––

–––

He felt the arrow pierce him as soon as he hit the bottom. He gasped for breath, feeling water splash around him; his whole body hurt, but nothing as much as the fire burning at his side. He saw lights shining on the edges of his vision.

–––

–––

A farmhouse sat in the middle of a grey plain; a broken down tractor sat under the only tree that stood for miles. He tried to take a step forward, but found his feet glued to the spot. Looking down, he began to panic when he saw that his shoes had sunk into the earth. Except it wasn't soil, but something thick and sticky and colorless. The more he fought to free himself, the deeper he sank into the muck; if he stood still, didn't move a muscle, the sinking stopped. He was trapped.

Someone came running out of the house; an impossibly wide straw hat fluttered above a massive skirt of green and white cotton. Nora's hair, he could see it was her now, fell in wide curls around her face, and her feet were bare. She came to a stop by the tractor, fanning herself.

"Dreams, dreams always dreams with you, never common sense!"

Her voice sounded odd and shrill and not like her at all. A red sports car came hurtling past him, bashing the tractor into the tree without making a single scratch on its shiny surface. A man in a tuxedo exited, laughing at what was now a rusty pile of metal and dead leaves. He didn't seem to have a face, but somehow Daryl knew he was handsome. The other man grabbed Nora around her waist and lay her across the hood of the the car, ripping her clothes from her body. Daryl struggled wildly to pull his legs out of the muck; there was no way in hell he was gonna sit here and watch some asshole go to town on her. He stopped when she laughed and twisted her fingers in the man's dark hair, pulling his lips against hers as he fumbled with his fly.

Although he was still, Daryl felt himself sinking deeper into the ground. The dirt turned to dead hands around his body, the muck to gnashing teeth. Unable to fight, he allowed himself to be pulled to pieces.

He was laying on his back. Crows cawed darkly in the distance. A face floated into his line of vision. A familiar face.

"Why don't pull that arrow out, dummy? Ya' could bind yer wound better."


	19. Chapter 18

Memories of finishing school surfaced as Nora chopped vegetables to be cooked. They were not entirely negative; she'd hated being forced to attend, but she had never really minded cooking. As of matter of fact she actually enjoyed it, especially baking. She just preferred to do it without a woman with a clipboard watching.

The younger girl, Beth, joined them with a half eaten peach in her hand.

"You'll ruin your appetite if you snack before mealtime."

It was Patricia who scolded. Beth scowled and moved to help chop. Nora hesitated.

"If you have any more of those, I could make a pie. If you wanted."

Beth's face lit up.

"I love peach pie!"

The vegetables were dropped instantly, forgotten.

"Let me go grab some. The spices are in the second cupboard to the left of the stove!"

Carol smiled and took over the dinner preparations when Beth returned with an armful of fresh peaches. She watched with interest as Nora measured out sugar and cinnamon and nutmeg, bringing over items as they were needed. Nora was an only child; both of her parents had been as well, meaning there were never any siblings or cousins to play with, to make peach pie with. After getting over the initial awkwardness of having every utensil handed to her, or having the pie tin sitting on the counter before she thought to get it, or simply having someone watch her work with curiosity instead of judgement, she decided she didn't mind. She even took the time to show Beth how to weave strands of dough to make the lattice top.

The gunshot rang clearly across the farm.

"What on earth is going on out here?"

Herschel bellowed at Andrea who scrambled down the ladder to the RV, gun in hand. She didn't stop to answer, but hurtled across the field with Dale in tow. Nora hung back with Patricia, Beth and Jimmy. Was it walkers? She hadn't yet seen any this near to the house; the idea made her chide herself. _Nowhere is safe_. Not the quarry, not the C.D.C., not the interstate, and not the farm. The sooner she allowed that concept to sink into her thick skull the better.

Rick and Shane were dragging a body towards them. It was limp and muddy and covered in patches of blood. But it couldn't have been a walker, or they wouldn't have bothered to carry it with such care. Glenn trotted beside them, holding a crossbow. Her heart turned to ice.

_Come back._

She was running to the house, following Patricia into a small room with a wooden bed frame. The sheet were white. Her fingers trembled as she turned down the comforter.

_Come back._

Somewhere in the fog that filled her head she heard someone tell her to get some hot water. When she came back with a steaming pot, he was laid out on the bed, head hanging to the side. She wondered vaguely if he was dead.

_Come back._

Herschel and Patricia worked over him. Nora sank into a chair. Then she heard it.

"Sonuva_bitch_."

–––

–––

Daryl would've rather taken another arrow, to the face this time, than admit that he was ticklish. He bit his lip and tried to disguise his squirming as purely pain as Herschel stitched up his side. When he'd come to it was in the tidy room with a warm cloth bathing the blood from his face; there were faces all around him with concern etched into their features. He'd thought he'd seen Nora towards the back but wasn't sure. Most of them were shooed out so that the farmer could have room to work.

"Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"Yeah, the one that almost killed me? If it's smart it left the country."

"We call that one Nelly. As in _Nervous_ Nelly. I could've told you she'd throw you if you'd bothered to ask."

He held a piece of gauze to his aching head, not bothering to argue. It wasn't worth the effort, not right now when every word he spoke made his skull feel like it was cracking in two.

"Anything we can do?"

"I just need to bind his head. He'll need to rest for a few days, but I don't foresee anything becoming an issue. Not now at least."

The Rick and Shane left the room, standing briefly to the side to allow a different person to pass them. Probably Herschel's nurse, Patricia. Daryl closed his eyes and allowed his head to be worked on. Sleep sounded like a wonderful thing just now.

"There."

He felt a soft pat on his shoulder.

"Are you the one who's gonna be looking after him?"

"Yes."

Daryl knew that voice. He cracked an eye as Herschel handed Nora two bottles of pills.

"These are for the pain. He shouldn't take more than two every three to four hours. These other ones, the blue ones, are the antibiotics. One every eight hours or so. I'll leave the basin in case he wants to clean up."

"Thank you."

He gave her a solemn nod, then cast his gaze onto Daryl.

"No moving around or you'll pull out the stitches."

She pulled up a chair close to the bed when they were alone. He wished the worry on her face would go away. It made him uncomfortable.

"I don' need a nurse."

Wringing water out of a towel, she reached over and wiped some grime off his neck. It felt warm.

"I _said_ I don' need a nurse."

"I don't especially care what you think you need."

There was something authoritative in her voice that he'd never heard there before.

"Take these."

A couple of pills and a glass of water was held in his face. Something in him wanted to object, to tell her to mind her own damn business, but something stronger kept it quiet.

"Now lay back and let me get some of this off of you."

He was sure that Merle would be pissing himself if he could see him now, keeping still while a girl sponged him off. His brain felt fuzzy. She stood and reached over him, gently scrubbed at a patch of dried mud on his opposite shoulder. His eyes scanned across her body; she was bent at the hip, her back unconsciously arching in a way that made his hands itch to reach up. A piece of dark hair grazed against his skin; he could see something lacy peeking out of her shirt. Daryl didn't know if it was the blood loss or the meds or whatever, but dammit he was getting all riled up. She turned her head and caught his eyes; he was sure she could tell what he was thinking, in fact he made sure she could see it. When she pulled back her fingers trailed across his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Hell, if she kept pulling shit like that he didn't care if he ripped every stitch on him because he was gonna drag her into this damn bed. Somehow he had a feeling she wouldn't mind.

But she sat back down, feet tucked under her.

"Herschel said to be careful of your stitches."

Considering he hadn't actually moved, he wondered why she said it. Wondered what she was thinking about, wondered if it was about ways she wanted him to move. She fiddled with the towel, folding it and refolding it while he watched her. If he looked hard he could see the same freckle under her collar bone that he'd first noticed at the C.D.C. Squinting made his head throb; he grudgingly looked away, closing his eyes with a grunt. He felt the sheet settle over him. The pillow was plumped a bit under his head. But he liked it best when he felt her fingertips push his hair away from his eyes.

–––

–––

Lori and Carol persuaded her to join the rest for dinner, but five minutes into the meal she desperately wished to have stayed in the other room. There was something uncomfortable hanging in the air. Something heavy and silent and it made Nora want to melt into her seat. Glenn made a light hearted attempt at conversation, but it was, intentionally or otherwise, shot down in a second. Carol put down her fork.

"I'm gonna bring Daryl something to eat."

Nora followed her into the kitchen, happy for an excuse to get away. As the pair of them assembled a tray, is occurred to her that Carol might have wanted to speak to Daryl alone. After all, he had been through hell and back for the sake of her daughter.

"I'm going to go find another pillow."

She found the linen closet easily, but stalled for a while when she saw Carol go into his room, leaving the door open behind her.

–––

–––

Daryl was sure it was Nora coming back when he heard the knob turning, not being able to think of who else it would be coming to see him. He'd woken up a few minutes before, surprised that he'd managed to fall asleep with her sitting in the room. Before everything had gone to hell he'd never been a heavy sleeper, and he had rarely even been able to doze with another person around. It'd never felt safe. Seeing that it was Carol, he immediately reached for the sheet and tried to cover his bare skin.

"How you feelin'?"

When the worst of his scars were concealed, he burrowed back into the pillow.

"'Bout as good as I look."

"Brought you some dinner. You must be starving."

He absolutely was. There was a slice of ham and mashed potatoes and a pile of vegetables, all things he felt like he hadn't eaten in years. It was a far cry from Spaghettios and roasted squirrel. Daryl hoped she would leave so he could sit up without her seeing the patchwork that was his chest. She leaned towards him without warning and he instinctively flinched away; then she placed a small kiss on his temple.

Daryl had never known his mother. From as far back as he could remember it had just been Merle, his pa and him-the other two in a constant rotation of jail time and week long benders. The only women he had ever seen cross the threshold of the Dixon property were not the maternal type, usually in varying degrees of intoxication. He understood what they wanted and how to get rid of them when he couldn't stand them anymore. These women, Carol, Lori, Patricia, were all unlike anything he knew how to deal with. And then there was Nora. With her big brown eyes and her shrugs and jean picking and the way she sat and read books and did his laundry. The way she had snuck her way under his skin and into his head without him even realizing she was doing it. He was completely out of his depth.

"Watch it, I got stitches."

He knew it sounded gruff but he couldn't think of anything better to say right now.

"You need to know something. You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life."

Suddenly he couldn't look at her.

"I didn' do anythin' Rick or Shane wouldn't'a done."

"I know. You're every bit as good as them."

No one had ever said those words to him before. No one had ever made him feel like he was worth their time, or what he did mattered, or that they felt he was valuable. He wondered if these were the kind of things mothers said to their kids. If this was what it was like to grow up with normal people in a normal house with a dog and lawn.

"Every bit."

He heard her leave but didn't turn around.


	20. Chapter 19

A/N: Sorry this update took a little longer... I was stuck on how to present some essential information, but hopefully it all makes sense! You are all so wonderful for sticking in there and supporting my brain child!

* * *

Rick, Shane, Glenn and Nora came into his room the next morning with the county map and breakfast for him. Nora fussed with his dressings while the three of them discussed the path he had taken the day before, including the branch of the the creek where he'd found the doll. Maggie popped her head through the door. Glenn sat up a little straighter.

"My dad wanted me to remind you to take the antibiotics."

Daryl grunted. He wasn't used to being under twenty-four seven scrutiny. Nora's fingers brushed his leg; she held an empty glass in her other hand.

"Give that here. I'll fill it up."

Maggie paused as she took the glass, then left to go to the kitchen. Daryl's head still ached but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been the day before. He tried to remember the last time he'd slept in a real bed but found he wasn't sure.

"Ella?"

With a full cup in her hand, Maggie was back. She peered curiously at Nora. Rick cleared his throat.

"Nora. Her name is Nora."

But Daryl had seen the way she had turned to stone, eyes reflecting something he couldn't place. Confusion, maybe? Surprise or fear or some kind of mixture of all of them. Maggie still had that same prying look on her face.

"Eleanor Louisa Remington Bellamy, 49 Ashley Lane, Covington, Louisiana?"

A memory of sitting on top of the RV at the quarry camp came to mind.

_I think they thought it made a person sound sophisticated_.

Nora opened her mouth but no sound came out.

"Its me! Maggie Greene?"

When she did not get a response, she shoved her hands into her pockets.

"You, uh...you sold me your ID?"

–––

–––

_Shit. Shit shit shitty shit shit **shit**._

Nora had thought the other girl looked familiar, but had put her mind into camp chores and worrying about Sophia and making pies instead of giving it any more thought. Now she felt everyone in the room staring at her as she stood exposed in her lie. No, it wasn't exactly a lie. She'd never lied to any one of them, she'd made sure of that. She just hadn't exactly told the truth. She couldn't believe she hadn't recognized Maggie sooner.

"Your hair's shorter."

It was a lame response, she knew. But it was all she had. Daryl's eyes were burning into her. Maggie played with a piece of hair.

"You look a little different too."

Shane suddenly spoke.

"'_Ella_'? What's she talkin' about?"

Rick put a hand on Shane's chest.

"You know each other?"

Nora felt like something small and furry caught in a trap. Maggie spoke.

"Hold on, I'll be back in five seconds!"

_Don't leave me with them!_ She wanted to bolt after her. Everything she'd worked so hard to lock away and forget about had come crashing into her face. Fidgeting she could not control started happening all over her body. How could she ever hope for them to trust her now?

–––

"Here, see?"

Daryl wanted to snatch the card and look at it himself. He wasn't sure what to feel, fighting every instinct to shut down and forcing himself to wait and hear more.

"Since when have you been 'Nora'?"

She was trying hard to keep her face blank, but failing. She hesitated, then answered Maggie's question quietly.

"I guess...since right around when I met everyone outside Atlanta."

_Ella._ She kind of looked like an Ella. She looked more like a Nora, but nothing like an Eleanor. Glenn grabbed the driver's license, scanning it intently.

"Louisiana? You never mentioned that-_Wait._"

He stared at her with his mouth gaping.

"July 7th, 1986? You're twenty-four?"

He was clearly not the only one surprised to learn her age. None of them knew exactly how old every other person was, but there was a kind of general understanding; collective guesses, anyway. He had always assumed she was older, closer to thirty. Something about the deepness behind her eyes, her old lady taste in hats, the way she gravitated towards Jim and Carol and himself. There were eleven years between them. Daryl wasn't sure what to think.

"You're practically my age and I still had to sit at the 'kids table' last night!"

Maggie brushed aside Glenn's outrage and held up a small pile in her hands.

"Look, remember this?"

Color that had drained from Nora's face just moments before came flooding back when her eyes flickered over the photos.

"We ran into each other on my twenty first birthday, and it was the first time we could go to the same places without using the same ID."

Maggie grinned ruefully.

"There's a lot of pictures from that night."

Nora rubbed her face.

"Which is why I haven't had tequila since."

She added something suddenly, looking at the men in the room.

"I wasn't trying to, you know...I never meant for you all to, on purpose anyway..."

"You wanted to start over."

Nora looked at him with a kind of desperate relief. He held a picture in his hand, one of the ones from the top of the pile. Maggie wore a crown with the number '21' written in jewels across the front. Her hair was indeed longer, and she was laughing with her arm flung over Nora's shoulder. But he barely noticed the girl with the crown, focusing on her companion because the combination of the red lipstick and the little black dress that clung to all the right places and the smile that made him feel like she only had eyes for him had Daryl very distracted. She had slimmed slightly since the picture had been taken, losing the softness she'd had before manual labor was a daily task.

Shane snorted in a way that might have been meant to sound like a laugh.

"Ya' know, most people just move to a new town, hell a new _state_, when they wanna start over."

Daryl didn't like his tone. It was not the first time Shane had made him grit his teeth recently.

"I tried that. It didn't work."

Nora shrugged a shoulder, not going into further detail. He'd drag it out of her sooner or later.

"So when the world looked like it was ending, I figured it was as good a time as any. But it's starting to seem like maybe I'm not meant to start over."

Rick's smile seemed sad as he and Shane left with the map. Daryl took another picture from the pile as Maggie told the stories behind her favorites, accepting the fact that the room was apparently now communal. He felt old. This one was just of Nora as she walked down a brightly lit street with a pair of high heels in her hand, feet bare. The next was of the pair of them posing like fashion models in what looked like a public bathroom. It occurred to him that if they had met in a bar six months ago, he would've never dared approach her. She looked like one of_ those_ girls, the ones with pretty makeup and dresses that made him look twice. Always from the city and ordering drinks with stupid names and twirling hair around their fingers as they looked at him like a he was something less than human. Merle sometimes had the balls to talk to them, if they seemed drunk enough, but never Daryl. He'd preferred to sit back and let his eyes wander over their tits and legs from behind the safety of a pool table or a cloud of Marlboro smoke. They'd never seemed worth the hassle.

He tried to imagine being back at the old dump of a bar where he'd downed many a beer, sitting at the table that no one dared touch 'cause it was well known that it was for Dixons only; seeing her come in giggling and wearing them high heels and that dress he liked so much. Maybe order some dumb fruity drink with an umbrella. What would he have done?

"Remember this guy?"

Daryl's ears perked up immediately. What_ guy_? Maggie stabbed a finger at a picture.

"He was into you. What was his name?"

Nora remained silent for a moment.

"Beau."

Her voice did not sound nostalgic. Daryl liked that. The asshole in the photo looked like a piece of shit, wearing a tight t-shirt that probably costed more than Daryl's truck. He looked like he spent more time in at the mirror than any girl.

"Maybe we should let Daryl have his room back."

He knew she was changing the subject on purpose.


	21. Chapter 20

"Hey."

Daryl stopped poking holes in the mesh of his tent and looked up. Andrea stepped through the flap into his tent. He raised his eyebrows when she handed him a paperback book.

_Case of the Missing Man._

It sounded like a tv movie that would play at two am. He flipped through anyway; no one had ever given him a book. He got the feeling most people didn't think he could read, but just 'cause he chose to do other things didn't mean he couldn't. Hell, if there wasn't so much to do all the time maybe he'd read every day.

"This is not that great, but..."

"What, no pictures?"

He couldn't help himself. She smiled a little. He knew why she was here, why she'd been avoiding him up until now. If he wasn't feeling so damn comfortable he might've worked harder to make her feel guilty for shooting him in the head.

"I'm so sorry, I feel like shit."

There it was.

"Yeah, you and me both."

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but if there's anything I can do..."

Daryl picked the arrow back up. He knew Nora was just outside by the fire; he thought of the shit head, _Beau_, in the picture with her, and decided to let Andrea off easy since he knew she could hear him.

"You're tryin' to protect the group. We're good."

As the blonde turned to leave, he added,

"But hey. Shoot me again, you best pray I'm dead."

He was serious but she seemed to think he was joking around. Whatever, it didn't matter to him either way. Daryl found he couldn't really be mad at her. Not when he knew there was an eavesdropper sitting close by who was probably feeling all jealous just knowing he was talking to her. He fluffed his pillow and laid back. Nora came over a few minutes later.

"Painkillers."

She handed him a canteen.

"Ya' don' need to keep track fer me. I can do just fine by myself."

Sitting down nearby, she shrugged.

"I don't mind."

He held the arrow delicately, watch her attempt at being casual.

"It was good of her to apologize."

She was fishing; he barely held in his smirk.

"'Spose."

She picked up the book that he'd dropped on the floor, looking at the title, flipping it over to read the back. They sat in silence. Daryl was starting to feel irritated; she was _supposed_ to come in here in a huff, _supposed_ to demand what he was doing talking to that _skank_, _supposed_ to do _anything_ besides ignore him and look at the damn book.

"You like hangin' around with assholes?"

He recrossed his legs in annoyance at her confused face.

"Yer boyfriend, _Beau_, looks like an asshole."

This was not going as planned. Nora shook her head, eyes innocent.

"He wasn't my boyfriend."

"Sure looks like it."

"He was the son of the owner of a bar I liked. He's only in those pictures because he got Maggie and I in free on a busy Saturday."

Daryl snorted. That didn't sound like something a guy would do for a girl he thought of as anything other than a piece of cooze.

"Yeah? An' why'd he do that? Did he have a rich old man_ an' _a heart a' gold?"

She paused.

"You really want to know the story?"

He sat back, scowling.

"S'not like I got anythin' better to do."

She leaned against the foot of his cot, picking at her jeans once she'd settled in.

"We ran into Beau outside, and I tried to convince him that it was Maggie's birthday and he should get us in. He said he would, but only if I agreed to dance with him."

_Great. A regular Casanova._

"The kind of music they usually played in there would've meant very...you know...close dancing..."

"I _know _what kinda music they play in those shitholes."

"Anyway, I agreed, but only if I could choose the song. And when the time came I told the DJ to play 'Hound Dog'. Elvis, you know?"

His tone was considerably less aggressive this time.

"I know Elvis."

She smiled, rubbing the back of her neck.

"He didn't think it was as funny as I did, apparently. And, after that, Maggie and her friends and I left. The end."

Daryl thought back, once more, to being in his home town's old bar. If he'd seen her dupe some gross bastard like that, he would've laughed his ass off; probably still wouldn't have talked to her, though. He was glad he hadn't met her then.

"Hey."

He looked at her as she leaned casually near his feet.

"What's it to you, anyways, who I may or may have an _understanding_ with?"

Smug bitch had turned his own words on him. He turned to poke another hole in the mesh, hiding his smile behind his arm.

–––

–––

"So, it sounds like we missed your birthday."

Lori sat down next to Nora by the fire. Daryl sharpened his buck knife, glancing up occasionally. They'd missed his too, but there wasn't time for stupid things like that anymore.

"I guess. I mean," her eyes fixed on the needle she was threading, "Jim and I celebrated a little, so its not really a big deal."

Lori smiled; other people around the fire were beginning to listen in. It was clear that word had gotten around.

"Nora, a few of us were wondering if maybe you wanted to tell us a little bit about yourself. It looks like in all of the craziness we all kind of forgot to ask, and we're sorry about that."

Daryl watched her face carefully, ready to step in should she begin to look trapped. Not that he wasn't curious. Nora poked a finger through the hole in the cloth lace-up she was mending.

"Maybe how you met Jim? Is that a good place to start?"

She was quiet for a time.

"After I met you all outside of Atlanta, I started looking around, at everyone who seemed to know what they were doing, whether it was laundry or building fires or hunting, and I was terrified. I'd never so much as touched a gun, the worst grade I ever got was in high school gym...Everything I'd been told to work towards, everything I'd ever been taught to do was all for a world that no longer existed. For a future that wasn't ever going to happen anymore. I was sure the minute everyone realized I was a loose end..."

She trailed off, swallowing heavily.

"And then Jim came over that first morning and asked if I could give him a hand. I guess I agreed out of fear more than anything. My car expertise extended about as far as popping the hood for a mechanic. But he never really asked me to do anything besides handing him tools or holding things. He told me I looked like his daughter."

Her voice began to thicken, and she picked at her jeans.

"Except when he got sunstroke he kept talking about his two boys. I don't think he even had a daughter. I think he just saw that I was...lost. Wanted to make me feel like I had a place."

Daryl remembered the way she and Jim would sit together, the way she had stayed at his side until the end.

"What about your family?"

Carol asked the question. Nora fiddled with the shoe in her lap.

"My parents were both psychologists. My father was a forensic psychologist, he worked for the Louisiana court system, and my mother had her own clinical practice where she worked mostly military cases. I didn't have any brothers or sisters."

"Did they...?"

The sentence didn't need to be finished; it was one that everyone had heard, or thought, or been asked too many times to count.

"I...I don't know."

And her answer was the almost universal one. For some reason, though, Nora seemed to feel the need to explain herself.

"My parents really liked their jobs. I read somewhere that it was important for people who did what they did to try to, you know, 'leave it at the door', not involve their families. I guess...maybe, they weren't really able to do that so well. And I understand that. It was...it was just hard to try and...I don't know...act normal when you knew you were being constantly analyzed."

The way she stripped her face of emotion so easily, or seemed to assess people without letting on that she was doing it suddenly started to make sense.

"But, they must have loved you very much if they kept an eye on you like that?"

Nora looked into the fire, something odd flickering in her eyes. It wasn't the reflection from the flames.

"I suppose. I mean, I'm pretty sure anyway that they... you know...they must have, at least a little..."

Daryl had been told he was an accident and a mistake since he was old enough to crawl. His old man had never minced words on the issue; he'd dropped out of a cunt that hadn't been worth his time, and he'd only kept Daryl around because his pa hadn't wanted the police on his tail for abandoning a baby, even if it was a scrawny, ugly thing like him. This being the case, Daryl had never lost a night's sleep guessing whether or not his pa cared. He wondered what it would be like to not know.


	22. Chapter 21

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay on this update! It was a weird combo of craziness and me being tired/stuck/uninspired! I may be a little slow for the next few days, but I promise to finish what I've started! Enjoy!

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, Nora felt the odd sensation of a weight having lifted off of her chest. It was not something she had been aware of, and it wasn't gone entirely, but it was different today. She got dressed, put on sunscreen and tucked Alma King's hat onto her head before joining the others by the fire. A bowl of eggs was sitting ready to be scrambled.

"Sit down, honey, I got 'em."

Carol patted her cheek and ushered her away from the cooking. Nora stood, unsure what she was supposed to do. Her mouth opened but she couldn't think what to say.

"Unless yer plannin' on catchin' flies, why don' you sit'own."

Daryl watched her from a camp chair. She took one last look at the fire, then sat on the ground beside him.

"An' I know I gotta take the meds, so don' start."

She shut her mouth. They were handed plates of food; she bit back a smile when Daryl accepted a pink plate.

"Somethin' funny?"

His voice was soft, not angry. She looked up at him as innocently as she could and shook her head. Something like a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The morning was quiet and pleasant.

"Uh, guys? So...the barn's full of walkers."

The fork hung limply in her hand as she stared first at Glenn, then turned to Daryl. His jaw was set dangerously. The peaceful morning lay in shreds around them.

–––

"You can't tell me you're okay with this, man."

"I'm _not _but we're guests here."

Nora heard the familiar snarls coming from behind the wooden door. There were two metal locks and a board holding it closed, but she unconsciously moved a little closer to Daryl. He stepped in front of her and Carol, glaring at the barn when people began to argue. His narrowed eyes snapped to Shane when leaving for Fort Benning was brought up. Nora looked over too; how could they leave without knowing what happened to Sophia?

"Ok, ok...I think its time that we all start to just, _consider_, the other possibility."

A cold shudder came over her at the idea they had all been avoiding; what if something terrible had happened to the little girl?

"Shane! We are not leaving Sophia behind."

Daryl stepped forward.

"I'm close to findin' this girl! I just found her damn doll two days ago."

"You found her doll, Daryl, that's what you did. You found a _doll_."

Things began to deteriorate rapidly. Rick tried to stand between Shane and Daryl, but couldn't control either. Carol took Nora's hand as they watched with a combination of nervousness and anger.

"You don' know what the _hell _yer talkin' 'bout!"

"No I'm just sayin' what needs to be said here, now you need a good lead in the first forty-eight hours-"

"Shane! _Stop!_"

"And let me tell you somethin' else man. If she was alive out there an' saw you comin', all methed up with your buck knife an' geek ears 'round your neck she would run in the other direction, man!"

Geek ears? When had he had walkers ears around his neck? She didn't have time to ponder the question as Daryl hurled himself at Shane, snarling.

"Shut yer stupid cock suckin'-"

Everyone surged forward to pull them apart.

"You come at me again I'll_ beat your ass_!"

When Shane hollered at Daryl, Nora cringed at both the level and venom in his voice. She remembered when she had trusted him to keep the camp safe. He frightened her now, the way he dressed like Rambo and stalked around with eyes swinging back and forth like a wild thing. Daryl was a hunter; Shane was a predator. She put her hand on Daryl's arm as Andrea pushed him back. He didn't look at her but didn't shake her off either.

"_Back off!_"

He was panting in fury, the muscles in his powerful shoulders and arms twitching. Nora hesitated, then stepped forward and pressed her face into his back. He stiffened, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Shane continued to rage until the barn doors were pressed to their limits by the frothing, moaning monsters inside. She felt his hand push her farther behind him.

–––

The group sat skittishly in the camp. Daryl had peeled away as they retreated from the barn, storming towards the stables. Nora hurried after him.

"Daryl."

He ignored her, speeding up.

"Please! Daryl, wait!"

It didn't take a genius to guess what he was doing, despite the fact that he still had fresh stitches in his head and his side. It also didn't take a genius to realize that he was not going to listen to her. For a moment she felt helpless. She couldn't lose him, not now. And then an idea popped into her head and she sprinted back to the camp.

"Carol!"

The other woman looked at her in surprise.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

Nora panted, looking from her concerned face to stable. Carol's face darkened instantly; she threw down the dish towel in her hand and jogged away. Nora stood, unsure whether or not to follow. Deciding it was best that he not feel ganged up upon, she walked aimlessly towards the house. Once in front of the open door, she was unsure whether or not to knock; one look at the barn gave her either the audacity or the rudeness to step inside without invitation.

It was quiet in the way old houses were, and seemingly empty. She decided old houses were like old books; there was something noble in their dustiness, in the way their floorboards sighed under foot. It wasn't the first time she'd been inside this one, but it was the first time she noticed the sturdy piano in the living room. Her heart fluttered. It felt like a lifetime since she'd played. Her fingers itched for the feel of cool black and white wood beneath them.

Nora looked around, and, seeing no one, went to stand in front of it. It was old, like many things in the house, but well cared for and to her eyes it looked beautiful. She found a middle C and quietly went up and down the scale.

"Do you play?"

Nora snatched her hands away from the keys. Herschel stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

"I...well..."

"It would just be an odd coincidence for an unfamiliar person to play an entire C scale without realizing."

He didn't seem to be angry; he spoke as if he were merely stating a fact.

"I do-I mean, I did. Sir."

Herschel smiled. A vague memory of standing on a rocky sea shore surfaced, the weather beaten stones, the cool salty air. Somehow he reminded her of that beach, as if this man was the personification of that place.

"I'm not musical myself, but Maggie's mother very much enjoyed playing."

He stepped back, gesturing behind him.

"Would you mind joining me for moment?"

Nora followed him into the kitchen where he was preparing lunch for himself. He continued speaking to her without looking up.

"Maggie says she knows you from college."

_I guess she opted to leave out that I sold your underage daughter an ID._

"Yes, a bit."

"May I ask how it is that you've come to be with this group?"

She could see the collection of tents outside the window.

"We met on the road to Atlanta, and we've sort of kept together ever since."

"And your family?"

"I haven't got any- I mean..."

For the first time she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt; how could she tell this man that she had never once tried to find them? She looked to her toes.

"I mean, I _have_ one, I just don't...I didn't..."

He held up a hand.

"No need to explain. I ran away from my home when I was fifteen, and I can recognize a kindred spirit when I see one."

When Nora raised her eyes, he was smiling gently. He looked...fatherly. Herschel waved her over to the table; she sat.

"I only ask because, if you don't mind me saying so, you seem to be cut from a different cloth than the rest of them."

She fiddled with a button.

"A different cloth?"

"Despite everything you've retained a sense of compassion, of magnanimity. Your group, I don't doubt that they are good people, but either they have lost those qualities or they did not have them to begin with."

Nora didn't have the first idea what to say to him. She wanted to defend them but her throat felt oddly thick and scratchy. Herschel chewed his food.

"I saw the way you cared for that man, and, well," he smiled again, "Beth told me about the pie."

He leveled her with a solemn gaze.

"My point is this: I will be asking your group to leave my farm as soon as they are all in good enough health to do so."

Her heart sank into her stomach.

"I simply do not have the resources, nor honestly the desire, to convert my land into a camp. However, I do not make the same request of you."

Nora could not keep the shock off of her face.

"Jimmy and Patricia are not my kin, but I have taken them in all the same. You have been a friend to my girls, and if you would like to remain here in our home you are welcome to do so."

_Here in our home_. Home. She could have a home. A real one, for the first time in her life. Somewhere to call her own, where she would be safe and looked after and maybe loved. Where she could make pies and teach Beth to play piano and gather eggs to bring back for breakfast. When tears began to fill her eyes, she quickly looked away. He patted her hand.

"There's no need to answer right now. I simply thought I would extend the offer while you still had time to consider."

_Hold it together._

"Thank you, sir."

Her voice was rough. He noticed.

"'Herschel' will do just fine."

Nora returned his smile before moving towards the door.

"You are welcome to use the piano whenever you like. There are several books of music in the living room."

When she passed Rick as he entered the house, she quickly wiped her face on a sleeve.


	23. Chapter 22

Weeds lashed at his legs as Daryl stomped towards the duck pond. He didn't have a location in mind, didn't have a weapon or a plan or anything besides the crushing feeling of frustration. How could she? If her own damn mother didn't care anymore, what hope did that little girl have? If this group was okay to let a lost kid rot in the forest alone, then he was fine getting the hell out of here. To hell with them all.

"Daryl?"

Goddamnit was there no where he could go to have some peace? Was there someone fussing over him around every corner of this farm? He plowed past Nora but, _of cours_e, she followed.

"Daryl, please! I need to talk to you!"

He whirled around.

"_What?_"

She skidded to a halt, almost bumping into him as she threw a hand up to hold her hat in place. His side burned; he knew it was bleeding.

"Your stitches, they're-"

"_You got five seconds to say what you need to."_

"Herschel asked me to stay."

The words tumbled out of her mouth, but he heard them loud and clear. After everything that had already happened today with the barn, with Shane, at the stable, this was absolutely the last thing he wanted to hear. _Fine_. If she wanted to leave him and smell the roses with a bunch of idiots who kept a barn full of walkers, good luck to her. He didn't care, didn't give a flying _fuck_ about her anyway.

"By all means go right _fuckin' _ahead! I don' need you! I don' care what you do, _Nora_ or _Ella _or whoever the _fuck_ you are!"

He meant to leave it there, to turn away and never look at her face again. But she grabbed him, clutching his arm with both hands.

"I'm Nora. I'm just _your_ Nora."

_I'm just your Nora._

_Your Nora._

_**His.**_

It was like something snapped inside him. Something that wasn't angry or familiar, but an urge that bordered on primal. His arms flung around her, fisting in her shirt as he crushed her against him. Her hands were around his neck, fingers in his hair; her toes brushed the top of his shoes. The straw hat fell to the ground. Daryl buried his face in her neck, smelling her hair, her skin, feeling all of her touching all of him and never wanting to let go.

"I don't want to be anywhere without you."

Her words were soft in his ear but they made the primal thing in him flare into a firework display. For the first time, maybe in his whole life, Daryl Dixon allowed himself to feel something without question; to let go and admit that he absolutely did give a flying fuck about her, that he thought about her when there was no reason to, that she made him feel strong and good and looked after and that he would rather die than have her taken away.

Slowly, he released her so that her feet were back on the ground. They looked at one another for a time, both feeling that they were in new territory but unafraid. He bend down to pick up the stupid hat, dusting it off on his pant leg.

"Daryl."

Her eyes were wide, gazing over his shoulder. He turned sharply, then froze. Growing among the tangled reeds was a Cherokee rose. Nora rested her cheek against his arm.

"You'll find her."

–––

He was talking to Carol; considering the mood she'd found him in, hopefully apologizing for anything he may have done or said. Nora felt like there was a little bird fluttering around in her chest, not trapped, but building a nest. It was an odd growing sensation, but not at all unpleasant. The sun felt warm and for once the warmth didn't make her wonder when she'd last put on sunscreen. She went back to the house knowing that the only thing that could make this moment better was to sit in front of that piano.

–––

_Mother and Father were away at a conference so Evangeline answered the ringing phone. Her piano maestro was ill and could not make the lesson. She stared at her shoes, clutching the sheet music to her chest in disappointment._

"_Ya' gonna be sad like dis all day, you?"_

_Evangeline looked her over with a shrewd eye._

"_No ma'am."_

"_Yes you is."_

_She received a swift tweak on the nose, and squealed._

"_C'mon now, child. Evangeline gonna get you some piano playin', she is."_

_They took a city bus into an area that was more farms than buildings. She had never been on a bus before. It was exciting, and she liked the part best when Evangeline told her to pull the cord and the STOP light turned on. There was a little wooden house sitting at the end of a dirt driveway. When they got close, a lady with dark hair and skin came out._

"_What ya' got fo' me here, Ms. Evangeline?"_

"_This is little Miss Ella, an' she here to play piano, she."_

_The lady smiled and she felt shy. She noticed with shock and delight that she didn't have shoes on her feet._

"_Evangeline," she tugged her skirt as they went inside, "where are her shoes?"_

"_Don' wear no shoes unless I wanna."_

_The idea thrilled her._

"_Can I take off mine?"_

_Evangeline gave her a pinch._

"_Keep yo' shoes on and play ol' Evangeline some music, you. And mind you pay attention to Ms. Lucy."_

_She wiggled onto the bench beside the new lady._

"_Are you a maestro?"_

"_A maestro? Good Lord, child! I's just a regular old piano teacher, me."_

_In her eight years she heard of people being maestros or professors or tutors but never just 'piano teachers'. Maybe someday she could be a piano teacher like Ms. Lucy. She liked that idea._

–––

"Is it hard?"

Carl had snuck in and stood where Herschel had earlier. His father's sheriff hat was perched on his head. Nora looked at the keys.

"Not really. I've had a lot of practice, though."

"What's the hardest thing you can play?"

She had never had to answer a question like that before.

"Umm...I'm not really sure."

Carl picked up a book of sheet music, flipping through until he found something he liked.

"Could you play this? It looks hard."

_Arabesque for Piano in C Major._ It wouldn't be impossible, especially if she warmed up a bit.

"I could probably play that."

"How do you say the name?"

The rapid fire questions were beginning to fluster her.

"Arabesque? Like, air-uh-besk. Its a thing you do in ballet."

"You can do ballet?"

Beth stood in the other doorway, eyes interested. Apparently she was a babysitter now. Not that she didn't like kids; she thought Carl was cute and Beth wasn't really a kid anyway. As a whole, children tended to make her a little nervous. She almost never had any interaction with them; she wasn't really sure what they wanted her to do. She had never even thought about whether she ever wanted to have her own.

"You should do one."

"A song?"

"An arabesque."

"I...I can't in jeans."

Daryl popped into her mind and she was instantly horrified. How had she gone from _having kids_ to _him_? They weren't even...they hadn't even... Her face began to burn as she forcibly cast the thoughts away. Carl sat on the bench next to her.

"Could you teach me?"

Nora faltered; she had never taught anyone to do anything, well, except the pie making lesson the other night. She honestly didn't know if she could, but his face was so serious and hopeful that she knew she couldn't tell him no. She tried to think of something that wouldn't be difficult to grasp.

"Okay, I'll try."

"I want to learn something hard."

"You'll probably have to start with something a little easier."

"Okay, but_ after_ that I want to learn something _hard_."

"...Sure."

Moonlight Sonata. She could play the octaves and the triplets wouldn't be terribly hard teach him. His blue eyes- Rick's eyes, she realized- looked excited as she turned to him. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

–––

Frogs chirped as Daryl made his way back towards the camp. Carol walked beside him; he remembered the way she had looked at the flower, tenderly touched the petals and smiled at him. He felt like he had done something right by someone, maybe. Like it was something Rick would've done.

"She's cares, you know."

Was she talking about Sophia? Daryl was confused but tried not to show it. Carol looked over at him, her face gentle. It suddenly occurred to him who she was talking about. He muttered something incomprehensible and kept walking. That same urge was flaring in his gut, hot and primal and possessive.

In the distance, he recognized Nora sitting on the porch with several others. The feeling got worse, or maybe better. He wasn't sure which.


	24. Chapter 23

A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the delay! It got a little crazy for a couple of days, and then this chapter was a tricky one, but here it is!

* * *

"Where is everyone?"

Carl had a golden opportunity to make one of his checker pieces a king, but Nora kept quiet figuring he was the kind of kid who would want to figure it out himself. Glenn rose from his seat on the stairs and gave Andrea and T-Dog an odd look.

"You haven't seen Rick?"

"He went off with Herschel. We were supposed to leave a couple of hours ago."

"Yeah you were. What the hell?"

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Daryl come sauntering up. Sweat and dirt clung to his skin; he was wearing the shirt she had found for him on the highway, although she was more aware of the way it played over his muscles today. A memory of seeing a tattoo on tanned skin played lazily across her mind. She squinted down at the game in an attempt to distract herself.

"Damn it, isn't anyone takin' this seriously? We got us a damn trail!"

Someone else was walking heavily towards the house.

"Ah! Here we go."

It was Shane, a rifle leaning against his shoulder and the entire bag of guns on his other. Nora felt immediately uncomfortable; after this morning, Shane seemed like the last person who should be armed. Daryl stood ahead of the group, shoulders tense as she was sure he thought the same.

"What's all this?"

Shane offered Daryl the rifle, face stony.

"You with me, man?"

"Yeah."

Nora wasn't sure what to feel when Daryl took the gun, cocking it and holding it powerfully in a hand. She stood and followed Patricia to stand at the top of the stairs, keeping an eye on Shane, wondering where Rick and Herschel were. She didn't like where this was going.

"I thought we couldn't carry?"

"Yeah, well we can and we have to. Now look, it was one thing sitting around here and picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe, but now we know it ain't."

Patricia frowned and gave her a questioning look. It occurred to Nora that no one had told the family that they knew about the barn. She had just figured there would be more time, a different way. Some way kinder and well thought out and weaponless.

"How 'bout you, man? You gonna protect what's yours?"

Shane directed the question to Glenn, but she felt Daryl's eyes on her. She met them and her knees became momentarily weak. She had never seen a look quite like it before; dark and possessive and absolutely intended for her to see. His blue eyes burned into her and to her surprise she realized that she liked it. After all, it shouldn't really come as a shock after what had happened by the duck pond. She had as good as told him she was his, if he wanted her. And it seemed that he did.

"Can you _stop_? You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight!"

"We have to stay, Shane."

Carl held his shoulders square as he stared Shane in the face. Nora thought Rick would have been proud. He was a kind, brave kid who had kept his head screwed on straight despite the horrors he had seen; it was people like Carl who gave her hope that the world they had all known as not gone entirely. That some people still wanted to find Sophia and learn to play the piano. But a little voice that was becoming all too familiar scoffed at her, sneering at her weakness. This was no place for a gentle heart anymore, at least one that wasn't paired with vigilance and practicality. Herschel was a good man who may have been honestly trying to save the walkers he saw as people. Nora could see that, understand it even, but she wasn't going to die for it. She didn't approve of a single shred of the way he was going about executing it, but Nora found she didn't disagree with Shane's plan. Daryl watched her still; she met his eyes again and knew they were both on the same page.

"We ain't going anywhere, okay? Now look, Herschel, he's just gonna understand, okay? He's gonna have to. We need to find Sophia, am I right?"

Then she heard the snarls.

"Oh _shit_."

Nora vaguely wondered if she was dreaming this whole situation up. It was too surreal; teaching Carl _Moonlight Sonata_, Daryl giving her steamy eyes with a rifle in his hand, and now Rick, Herschel and Jimmy leading a pair of howling walkers on leashes out of the woods. Not tearing her eyes away she pinched herself, just to be sure. Everyone was running towards them, and she fought the instinct that screamed at her to go back into the house and hide and forced herself to follow.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN'?"

Shane was raging, his chest heaving and voice raw. Daryl remained silent and leveled the barrel of his rifle at the head of the bigger walker. Rick and Herschel hollered at them to stand back and stop and listen, but Nora couldn't understand why.

"These things ain't sick! They ain't people! _They're dead_! Ain't got the feelings from before, because all they do is kill! These things right here! They're the things that killed _Amy_! They killed _Otis_! They're gonna kill all of us if we do not-"

"_SHANE! Stop_!"

"Hey, Herschel man, let me ask you somethin'. Does a livin' breathin' person, do they walk away from this?"

When he began to unload rounds into the walker that had once been a woman in a nightdress, something started writhing inside of Nora. It had two heads and they lashed at one another, fighting for dominance. One called for Shane to shoot it in the head and eliminate the threat, the other saw the look on Herschel's face and the faces of his loved ones and felt sick.

"SHANE, ENOUGH!"

"Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough."

He shot it in the head and it dropped to the ground and became still. She had seen more than her fair share of walkers shot; she'd seen bites and blood and had brain splattered all over her. But there was something inherently violent about the way Shane killed it, something that felt cruel instead of efficient, like he enjoyed it. The creature inside her sprouted a new head that hissed in fear.

"Now if y'all want to live,_ if y'all want to surviv_e, you gotta fight for it, I'm talkin' 'bout_ figh_t, right here, _right now!_"

Veins throbbed in his neck as he hurled himself at the barn door with a pickaxe. Voices combined with the pounding of metal on metal and the moans of the walkers inside; it all became a single noise that reminded Nora of fingernails dragging down a chalkboard. Hands reached for her and she registered that it was Carol.

"C'mere, honey. Don't look."

She allowed Carol to hold her but could not look away. It was an execution; she'd seen things like it in movies but the real thing simply did not compare. The way the walkers tripped and stumbled over their already dead peers, how the air felt full of blood and the smell of guns, the line of people she knew and cared for who released shot after shot after shot until everything was still.

Daryl raised his gun slightly, eyes trained on the barn. They all heard it, the soft sound so similar to breathing. There was another one in there. It stepped out and the first thing Nora noticed was how fragile it looked. The skinny little ankles, the bones in its wrists as it shielded its face from the sun. The oozing wound at its neck. The faded rainbow on its t-shirt. And then it was like she couldn't feel anything anymore. She knew that shirt, its image having played through her mind a millions times over as she fought to remember what the girl had been wearing that horrible day; she'd fought to remember so she could recognize Sophia when she saw her hiding in a bush or up a tree. When they found her. The three headed beast stopped fighting and withered into dust; the lock burst off of the dark place deep inside and sucked her in and she allowed herself to leave this world that was too much and be dragged down into the blackness.


	25. Chapter 24

_Her backpack lay forgotten on the lawn as she ran frantically into the house, hollering for Evangeline._

"_God Lord, child, where da fire at?"_

_She held up her little hands, lip trembling._

"_Eleanor Bellamy, you put that nasty thing down, you!"_

_She clutched the bird to her chest, shielding it with a fierce face._

"_No!"_

_Evangeline gave her the kind of hard look that usually happened before she got in the most trouble._

"_It's hurt real bad and we have to save it!"_

_Something changed on the old lady's wrinkled face. She didn't understand why it happened or what it meant, and wouldn't for a long time. Evangeline kneeled in front of her._

"_Ella, child, neither you nor ol' Evangeline can help tha' lil' birdy now."_

_She had seen it hit the window and fall to the ground; one time she had ran straight into a sliding glass door and had come away with a silly red mark on her head but nothing else. She looked at the bird in her hands. It was still, eyes closed. Tears dripped onto its soft feathers._

_They held a funeral for it in the garden; she put a shiny stone on top of the small pile and Evangeline said a prayer._

"_Will it go to Heaven?"_

"_I's not sure tha' things tha' ain't people get to go to Heaven, child."_

_She hugged her tight, wiping tears away._

"_But maybe there some other kinds a' heavens out there, hmm? Maybe ones fo' birds?"_

_She nodded, but wished silently that everything could just go to the same place._

–––

Carol wailed as she lay in the dust. Daryl tried to help her to her feet, tried to lead her away but she pushed against him and ran. He stood, feeling empty and like he'd done something wrong. He was trying to help; that was all he was trying to do. Pain began flashing through him like lightning, hurt everywhere and everything.

_You'll find her._

They'd both said it to him, both believed in him. He'd failed, wandering around in the woods like a damn fool for days. He'd failed them, failed everyone, failed that little girl who had probably died all alone on that first day. He couldn't stand still anymore, couldn't stand here and look at the crumpled child's body that was covered in blood on the ground.

Nora stood farther up the path. Daryl didn't want to talk or even look at her. Not now. But he did, couldn't help himself; it was like she wasn't there. Her eyes stared forward at nothing, face blank in an absent way like her body was an empty husk. She didn't react to his presence, still standing there like a sleepwalker or a doll or something that wasn't real. He closed his fingers around her arm and turned her towards the camp. She moved with him like a puppet. He hated it, and he didn't know what to do. Carol was probably crying somewhere, Nora had left the damn building, and he just wanted to punch something or kill something or scream or anything to make the pain stop.

Daryl unzipped the flap to her tent and guided her inside. She didn't protest, standing in the middle as her hair brushed the nylon ceiling.

"Hey."

She didn't respond; he pushed her onto the pile of blankets and she settled in, laying on her side and turning away from him. He'd never seen what her tent looked like, where she had spent her nights, her private space. A ragged breath made her body shake, and he ducked out. He had to find Carol.

–––

Evangeline's words echoed over and over again in her head.

_I's not sure tha' things tha' ain't people get to go to Heaven, child._

Nora curled into a ball, hiding her face from the darkness and the pain. She couldn't handle this alone. Where was Evangeline? She needed her, needed to hear her say that all things could go to Heaven, people and birds and snails and...

Her shoes were not the haggard cloth lace-ups, but a pair of neat patent mary-janes. Her socks had bows, her knees bandaids. She knew there was a ribbon in her hair. But she was not eight years old. This was not Louisiana and she hadn't seen Evangeline in fifteen years. There were other people she cared about now, other people she loved.

They'd lost Sophia.

Where was Carol? Her daughter was dead. She would need her now. And Daryl. He had nearly died trying to find the little girl. She had to get back.

–––

Nora had no idea how she had ended up in her tent. For one desperate moment she hoped that everything had been a dream, but couldn't convince herself. What time was it? What was happening? She untangled herself from the nest of blankets that served as her mattress and fumbled to unzip the flap.

The camp was empty except for one person. Patricia looked over when Nora appeared.

"I've been lookin' for you. Herschel was hoping you could come up to the house for a minute."

Nora slowly processed the words, nodding and following Patricia before her brain had managed to piece together a possible reason for the need. They walked in silence; when they reached the porch the quiet sounds of sobbing floated into their ears. Nora's stomach began to hurt. Patricia gave her arm a gentle squeeze and pointed to the staircase.

"He's upstairs."

The wood creaked softly under her feet; each step felt too loud, like she was disturbing the solemn silence. The landing was a wide hallway with several doors, but she heard him rustling in the room at the top of the passage. A large shopping bag and a cardboard box were on the bed, filled hastily with clothes and framed pictures. Nora wondered for a moment if he was packing to leave and then realized the face in the photos was a woman and a wedding veil peeked out of the box. Her stomach ache became worse.

"I'm glad you've come."

Herschel stood in the entrance of the closet. She knew she should say something, knew it would be cruel and cold and terrible to say nothing, but for the life of her she couldn't not put two words together. His smile was faint.

"I thought perhaps you were a singer, given your fondness for the C scale. I was hoping you might sing something at the service."

This was not what she was expecting to hear. Not that she had had any idea what he had wanted to talk about, but this certainly wouldn't have made the list. Something about the way this man could know so much about her made her uncomfortable. She had spent the better part of her life bottling information behind a meticulously practiced blank face; these days people were taking one look at her and learning everything. The feeling was new and awkward and Nora couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad one. Herschel watched her, and she could feel his hope. She nodded.

"Thank you."

"I play guitar a little. In case...if you..."

Well, no wonder her life was becoming an open book. She was ripping out pages and shoving them in people's faces. His smile reached his eyes this time.

"There is a book of music in the living room."

Nora turned away and took two steps. Then she stopped, looked back.

"I'm so sorry."

He sighed.

"As am I."

They regarded one another for a moment. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, having people see what you were feeling. Having people understand. Maybe the world would be a little less lonely that way.

–––

Daryl stared hard at the mounds of dirt, allowing anger to beat down whatever else was growing in his chest. Carol had not come to her own damn daughter's funeral. She'd just planted her ass in the RV and said that 'Sophia had died a long time ago'. _Bullshit_. If she had felt that way why had she let him tear himself up looking for her? Why had she said he'd find her _yesterday_? She was being a selfish bitch and he couldn't stand it. He was going to be there; even if everyone else left that kid alone at the end he was going to be there.

Nora crouched to the side of Sophia's grave, stacking up a small pile of stones. He knew it was for Jim, although she never explained herself. When Herschel began the service, she came to stand by his side. The curl was resting in the crook of her neck. He remembered the way she had felt against him, the way her fingers felt in his hair. He remembered the way she flickered and died like an old light bulb at the C.D.C and earlier that afternoon at the barn. How she would've just been left to rot in both cases if he hadn't been there. How she needed him; how sometimes over the last couple of months he would just look over at her dark tent at night and relax knowing she was safe and asleep inside.

"Nora?"

She nodded when Herschel said her name. Patricia handed her a guitar; Daryl watched as she took a breath and began to sing quietly.

_Going home, going home,_

_I'm just going home._

_Quiet-like, slip away-_

_I'll be going home._

_It's not far, just close by;_

_Through the open door;_

_Work all done, laid aside,_

_Fear and grief no more._

_Friends are there, waiting now._

_He is waiting, too._

_Lots of folk, gather there!_

_All the friend I knew._

Daryl vaguely knew the song from somewhere. Her voice was soft and reminded him of the kind of breeze that brushed along his skin in early fall. The way she sang was different from the way she spoke; it made her seem more fragile.

_Morning Star lights the way;_

_Restless dream all done;_

_Shadows gone, break of day,_

_Life has just begun._

_Every tear wiped away,_

_Pain and sickness gone;_

_Wide awake with a smile!_

_Peace goes on and on!_

_Going home, going home,_

_I'll be going home._

_See the Light! See the Sun!_

_I'm just going home._

The family encircled her as the funeral ended. To an unknowing onlooker, she could have been one of Herschel's daughters. He had asked her to stay here with them. Their group was ripping at the seams, splintering off and he didn't want to stick around and wait for the shit to hit the fan. Patricia took the guitar from her hands and Beth wrapped skinny arms around Nora's waist. She had said she didn't want to go anywhere without him. Daryl walked away, his mind stormy but resolved. He needed to get out of here, and soon. And she was coming with him. She needed him.


	26. Chapter 25

_That stupid bitch._

Daryl stormed across the field, blood pounding behind his eyes.

_If that skinny, worthless cunt thinks she can swan around and call other people selfish then she can choke to death on her own lies._

If Lori was a man he would've bashed her ugly face in. He was done. Done with the whining, done with the sacks of shit laying around and eating bonbons while whimpering at him to keep them safe and feed them, and more than anything he was done with wasting his own time. He was getting out of here. Today. Now. And Nora was coming with if he had to tie her to the back of the damn motorcycle.

The camp was empty, but he wouldn't've cared if anyone was there anyway. His tent was in pieces in a matter of minutes; he began shoving gear into his pack by the fistful.

"Daryl?"

"Pack yer shit. We're leavin'."

Nora watched him, but didn't move.

"Rick isn't back with Herschel yet. We don't know-"

"_You've got two minutes._"

He flung his stuff onto the bike, latching the buckles into place. When he turned, Nora flickered her eyes from him to the house and back again. She hadn't grabbed a single thing from her site. Fine. If she didn't want her things, that just meant less room taken up needlessly on the seat. They could find whatever else they needed later. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the seat.

"Daryl!-"

"Better hold on."

"But Daryl-"

The engine roared to life and they surged forward. She gasped and he felt her arms fly around him. The wind whipped against his face; her hair tickled his neck. He heard her speaking but couldn't make out the words so he ignored her. The tree line was ahead.

"_STOP!"_

The shriek was right in his ear, and he slammed down on the brakes more out of pain than anything else. As they suddenly skidded to a halt, Nora fell against him before bouncing back and tumbling onto the grass. Daryl threw the kickstand into place and then descended on her with teeth bared.

"_What the__** fuck**__ is wrong with you?_"

Even through his rage and confusion, he expected her to look up at him with those big brown eyes and whisper something sad or plead with him or cry. He knew her reactions and even though they sometimes worked he wasn't giving in on this matter.

"_I am NOT going anywhere!_"

He took a step back in shock. She raised herself shakily to her knees, eyes wild.

"I am so goddamn sick of running away and hiding and not knowing whether I should be more scared or angry or hungry or whether I'm about to get my throat ripped out or shot or burnt alive_! I hate it! I am not going to run away again! And I don't care if I die tomorrow or right now!"_

Daryl didn't know what he felt. When tears began pouring down her cheeks, she slumped back against an old stone structure. Her body shook; her eyes were blazing even as she cried and she had grass in her hair. He had never seen this side of her. The woman in front of him was savage and raw and so goddamn sexy. Daryl knew it was not the moment to think it but he couldn't help himself. The fact that the doe-eyed girl doing his laundry and this wildcat were the same person made his blood boil in a way that had nothing to do with anger. That she thought of herself as his, that she _was _his, was always going to be his.

He turned away abruptly, moving into the trees. Merle laughed at him in his head.

_Got a sweet piece like that lyin' there just achin' to be banged, and ya can' get it up?_

Daryl shook his head to rid himself of his brother's coarse laughter. But on some level he knew it was true. She clearly was not going to turn him away, clearly wanted him, clearly wasn't going anywhere. So why couldn't he just...

He ripped a branch off of a nearby trunk and hurled it into the bushes. His pants felt too tight as images of Nora flashed through his brain. Maybe he'd always wanted her, since he'd seen her on the highway into Atlanta. Maybe he'd always wanted to know what her hair felt like in his fingers, what she tasted like, how to make her make that sound he'd only heard once but had haunted his dreams ever since. So why was it this fuckin' complicated? He could get it up- he noted this as he shifted his leg to try to alleviate some of the pressure in his groin- he knew where hers was and where to put it. Why couldn't he just do it? Why couldn't he just finish this and move on?

–––

His arms were full of firewood when he returned. The sun had sunk lower in the sky as he wandered around in the forest, collecting tinder so he wouldn't look like a complete idiot when he came back. This way it at least looked like he had run away for a reason. And he hadn't come up with a way to resolve the situation. He gnawed a lip as the motorcycle came into view. But at the edge of the field he stopped in his tracks, staring at the spot she occupied. No longer sitting, but curled up in the dirt.

_Goddamnit goddamnit sonuvabitch are you **serious?**_

Asleep. _Of course_. Because this was such a great place to take a siesta. Such a safe, well concealed- and of course she wasn't armed, because she was practically a ninja with all her stealth and weapon savvy.

Daryl dropped the wood heavily near where she lay, glaring. She didn't move. Tears were dried on her cheeks and there was a small stick tangled by her ear, but her face was calm. He had never seen her asleep before. He put together the tent nearby, setting up the camp and angling the motorcycle towards the road. He still didn't plan on sticking around, but it didn't look like they were going to make much progress today, not with Sleeping Beauty having a melt down and passing out.

He stood close to where Nora lay once again. Carefully, he pulled the twig out of her hair, then bend down and picked her off the ground. Her head rested against his chest; one hand curled into his shirt. Daryl carried her in silence and placed her on his cot. For a time he let his eyes take in the sight of her sleeping on his bed, noticing the way her eyelashes brushed the pillowcase, how her legs twisted in the sheets. The thought of her sleeping anywhere else ever again made him frown.

–––

The fire crackled when he poked it. In the distance, he heard the rest of them talking and a car engine revving. He couldn't believe the stupid bitch had decided to go out on her own; not that it was his fault. He never told her to go get herself lost or bit or anything besides to leave him alone. Daryl wondered what Rick saw in her. He was more than capable of handling himself with walkers, so why was his dumb wife always fussing and fretting about where he was? Daryl would hate that; he didn't want anyone squawking at his ankles like a damn chicken. He looked over his shoulder at the tent.

_Come back._

When he wanted to go off, she'd just look up at him with those eyes of hers and ask him to come back to her. Never asked to come with or complicate things or cry or beg him to stay. Just return to her when he was done. And he always did. Always would. He stepped into the tent and sat near the cot. Nora was still asleep, although he could tell from her breathing that it was a light slumber. It was hard to get anything more than that these days. She fidgeted, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Daryl?"

It was a question, hazy with sleep. His stomach clenched pleasantly and he touched her hand with a finger.

"Yeah, 'm here."

Her forehead smoothed; her breath came out in a sigh as she nestled herself deeper into the covers. His covers. He watched the rise and fall of her chest; it became slow and even and he knew she felt safe. In the same moment he realized why this was so complicated, why he couldn't just get what they both wanted and move on. It was because of moments like this, moments when all he wanted was to sit and watch her sleep. To just be with her. He thought back to sitting on the RV at the quarry, or pinning up laundry, or riding away from the C.D.C. or sitting by the water pump. All those times that they had just been together, not saying nothing, not expecting anything from the other. The way they had just begun taking care of one another without realizing it, needing one another.

He'd never needed anyone in his whole life; he was able to handle his own shit and didn't bother getting dragged down into anyone else's. And yet, in a backwards kind of way, now that the world had gone to shit and he couldn't depend on anyone but himself, he needed her more than anything. It was confusing and made him uncomfortable but he didn't hate it. In fact, even while part of him wanted to deny it, he couldn't pretend that he didn't like it.

Daryl grabbed his buck knife and went to clean a squirrel. She might be hungry when she woke up.

–––

Crickets were buzzing as Nora opened her eyes sluggishly. It was dark, and she was laying in an unfamiliar cot. A pack was on the floor nearby with a crossbow leaning on it. Blood rushed into her cheeks, but she didn't move. Her brain had that strange, fuzzy feeling that happened when she napped for too long.

"Just _go_! I don't want you here!"

The anger in his voice surprised her. She lay still, wondering who was out there with him.

"Yer a real piece of _work_, lady. What, you gonna make this about my _daddy_ or some _crap_ like that? Doesn' mean_ jack_."

Something began to ache in her chest. The other person hadn't replied, hadn't said anything to make Daryl bring up his father. He was revealing more than he realized, certainly more than he meant to. He had never said anything about his family, not even Merle, not to her anyway. She had felt like a social experiment to her parents, a novelty not a child, but she couldn't imagine the people who had produced Merle and Daryl Dixon. It seemed like sheer luck that Daryl just happened to be born a decent man, a trait that may not have been so lucky for him in his childhood. She'd seen the scars, the way he snapped and growled at anyone who came close. How he had tried over and over to push her away.

"Yer _afraid._ Yer afraid cause yer all_ alone_. Got no husband, no daughter. You don' know what to do with yerself."

Her eyes adjusted to the low light and she noticed that there were little flowers on his pillow case. Nora knew it must be Carol out there, standing silently as Daryl unintentionally bared his soul to both of them. Exposed his own fears and pain and confusion as he tried to lash out at someone else.

"You ain't my problem. _SOPHIA WASN' MINE_!"

His voice raised to a shout. She remembered how angry he had become on multiple occasions when she had decided to keep silent rather than engage with him. She realized he didn't know any other way to handle those situations. It was like his autopilot mode was _fight, rage, holler, hate_.

"_ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS KEEP AN EYE ON HER!_"

And then something occurred to Nora that broke her heart. Did Daryl see himself in Sophia? Is that why he had spent hours, days even, searching the woods for a girl he barely knew? Was there something deeper in his need to find a lost child before it was too late? To save her from pain and fear? Nora wanted desperately to dash out of the tent and throw her arms around him, to tell him whatever he needed to hear, and never let him have to face the horrible world again. But even as she thought it she knew that was the last thing he would want. He didn't want to be shielded or coddled. He wasn't a victim; he was better than that.

She heard Carol turn and walk back to the camp. She could vaguely see his outline, his back to her. His shoulders were tense as he shifted weight from foot to foot. He turned sharply and moved to the tent; he met her eyes. Nora saw him realize that she was awake. She looked up at his face that was both stormy and oddly blank at the same time.

"I should go..."

He blinked, then scrubbed his eyes with a hand.

"Stay put."

"But I'm using-"

"_Stay. Put_."

He plunked down in front of the fire and poked at it. Nora hesitated, then sank back into the blankets. She fell asleep watching his back.


	27. Chapter 26

The stupid cloth lace-ups had finally bit the dust after she fell from the motorcycle. She wiggled her bare toes as she sat on the steps in front of the house. Daryl leaned against the Hyundai and watched as Maggie brought her a pair of faded cowboy boots. Nora looked at them in surprise.

"Are you sure? They're really nice."

"They belonged to Annette, but they don't fit any of us. Please," she added when Nora began to protest, "they're not doing anyone any good just sitting and collecting dust."

The air was getting crisper as September came to an end; she had changed her clothes since he had last seen her, now wearing a fresh pair of jeans and a white shirt with a collar low enough that he could see the freckle he liked. When Nora put the cowboy boots on and twisted her hair out of her face, Daryl chewed harder on the blade of sweet grass between his teeth. She noticed him watching; he spit the blade to the side and walked over.

"Ya' look country."

A smile tugged at her mouth. His eyes drifted to the freckle.

"As opposed to what?"

"Dunno. Country _club._"

She looked down at the boots admiringly. He kind of wished they were alone so he could throw her on the hood of the damn car. T-Dog handed him a canteen.

"You ready?"

Daryl nodded once; Nora looked up at him as T-Dog turned away.

"Come back."

Her fingers brushed his side. He thought about how his pillow had smelled like her this morning; this search had better be easy, because his mind was staying at camp this time with a girl in cowboy boots.

When the old red Suburban drove into view, he almost felt relieved. He never had any doubt that Rick would be fine, and Herschel, while overly sentimental, was no idiot. He chucked the canteen into the back of the car and watched the reunion. Nora settled at his side; she smelled like magnolias.

"Who the hell is that?"

Daryl could see the fourth person slumped in the backseat. He narrowed his eyes; what was the need for the blindfold?

"That's Randall."

Just what they needed right now, another person. And an injured one it looked like. Jesus Christ, did anyone here have a lick of sense? His eyes flickered to meet hers. _Stay put._ When he went forward to examine the kid, she did not follow.

–––

Daryl paced as the kid sat and whimpered. He was losing patience, so he gave him a swift smack in the face. And another for good measure.

"I told you..."

He grabbed him by the collar and rammed him up against the wall.

"You ain't told me _shit_."

"I barely knew those guys! I met 'em on the road!"

"How many in your group?"

The kid blubbered uselessly on the ground. Daryl had been at this for twenty minutes and had learned absolutely goddamn nothing. It was time to raise the stakes. His buck knife slid into his hand purposefully.

"Nononononononooooo, c'mon man..."

Seemed this was going to be the only way to get through to this asshole. He squealed when Daryl slammed the knife into the floorboard right next to his knee.

"_How many?_"

"Thirty! Thirty guys!"

"Where?"

"Uhhh..."

It occurred to Daryl that this little shit had properly never done an honest day's work in his entire life. He was a scrawny, pale piece of work with an ugly fishy face. A bitch like him ought to know when he was beat and stop wasting Daryl's time. He ripped the gauze off of his leg. Herschel wouldn't be happy, but the kid's shriek was worth it.

"I don't know, _I swear_! We were never any where more'n a night!"

"Scoutin'? Plannin' on stayin' local?"

"No! They left me behind!"

Daryl dug the tip of the blade into the oozing wound, narrowing his eyes.

"You ever pick off a scab?"

"C'mon, man, I'm tryin' to cooperate!"

_Bullshit._

"Start real slow at first, but sooner or later you just gotta _rip it off."_

"Okay! Okay! They have weapons! Heavy stuff...automatics...but I didn't do anything!"

He made note of the information, but did not remove the knife. He'd had enough of the crying and trying to be convinced of this kid's innocence. Clearly he was guilty. He posed a threat to everyone on the farm, to everything they had. Everything Daryl had was here, and he wasn't about to let some limp dick asshole ruin it.

"Shot at my boys...try to take this farm. You just went along for the ride. You tryin' to tell me yer_ innocent?_"

"Yes! These people took me in."

Here we go. _Finally_. He drew back and fixed his eyes on the little twerp as he spoke. The story seemed to make sense, that there would be other groups like theirs out in the countryside. Maybe he was just a worthless loose end that belonged to some different camp. That would mean at least he wasn't dangerous.

"But... we go out, scavenge, just the men. One night we, we found this little campsite, a man and his two daughters...teenagers, you know?...real young, real _cute._"

It was in the way he said that word, _cute_, that made Daryl's blood run ice cold and then boiling hot. He turned his head to look at the summabitch. An image of Nora holding a clothespin in her mouth, Nora wearing cowboy boots, Nora sleeping in his cot all flashed in his mind. He barely heard the rest of the story, but it didn't matter because he knew how it ended. He felt like he was going to tear out of his own skin, like it was too tight to contain the rage he felt at the idea that this little _fucker _would even dare to _look_ at her.

"But I didn't touch those girls! I swear I didn't!"

Daryl's foot swung out and connected hard with ribs. His jaw began to ache from clenching, teeth grinding as his eyes burned with hatred. The piece of shit sniveled on the ground. It was over as far as Daryl was concerned. He was going to die in the worst way Daryl could get away with. Hell, he'd do it right now if it was all his say; bash his filthy fucking face into a pulp until he choked on his own blood and brain.

He had something to take care of now. Someone. A _cute_ girl with big brown eyes and a freckle under her collarbone, and he would personally rip to pieces any asshole who so much as_ thought_ about her the wrong way. Daryl breathed heavily through his nose. He might have to wait to kill him, but that wasn't going to stop him from roughing him up a bit right now. He wasn't sure if it was his blood or the kid's streaming over his fingers as he lashed out again and again.

–––

It was finally getting cool enough for Nora to enjoy a hot cup of tea without sweating. She sat on a stump in front of her tent as the group waited quietly for Daryl to return from the shed. She had found it a little odd when he volunteered to get Randall's story; she wondered what was happening behind the wooden doors.

"You gonna keep him here?"

Nora could see Rick's profile from her seat. He looked tired; he had more grey around his temples than when she had first met him at the quarry. She doubted he'd had a decent night's sleep since he woke up in the hospital all those months before.

"We'll know soon enough."

Daryl had his crossbow slung across his back as he approached. She poured a steaming mug of coffee as he spoke; his bloody knuckles did not escape her notice.

"Boy there's gotta gang. Thirty men. Got heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends."

She frowned at the powdered creamer, figuring he probably wouldn't want any. He seemed like a "take it black" kind of guy. His words made her feel a strange pang for days past. She remembered times when meeting new people wasn't a threat to anyone's life. When supporting stronger gun control meant you were concerned about the common good, not naive and likely to be eaten.

"They roll through here, our boys are dead an' our women...they're gonna wish they were."

Nora knew somehow that the statement was directed at her. She had never been in a relationship- is that was this was? Whatever they had?- where she understood the other person's subtext as thoroughly as she did with him. And it was the same with him, she could give him one look and it was like he had read her mind. Years of finishing school and debate team and charity leagues had given her the ability to smile and seem engaging, but on the whole she had never considered herself to be practically eloquent or good with small talk. None of that mattered with someone who barely spoke and watched people with sharp eyes that saw everything.

"What did you do?"

Daryl stuffed his hand into his pocket when Carol asked the question. Nora felt she knew what he had done; she wondered if she had any Neosporin left in her bag.

"Had a little chat."

The group continued to discuss Randall as Daryl came over. He accepted the mug from her and jerked his head in the direction of his separate camp. Nora cradled her tea and followed.

"Ya' need to pack yer things. Can' stay here."

His voice was gruff, and Nora couldn't hold back a sigh of frustration.

"I don't want to run away."

He was quiet for a moment, walking with his eyes levelled on the horizon.

"Ain't runnin' away. The group's broken. Gotta think about yerself."

She stopped in front of the motorcycle; he put down the bow and began looking over his newly made bolts. It wasn't that she hadn't had the thought before, but something about him straight out saying that their group was falling apart made her feel sick. They were the only stability she had left, and they couldn't even hold themselves together.

"Where would we go?"

The words seem to surprise Daryl almost as much as they surprised herself. She couldn't look at him, hid her face in the cup. She felt guilty even suggesting they could leave everyone behind. Leave Carol behind. Leave Maggie and Beth without saying goodbye. Everything was confusing and painful and neither way seemed like the right one.

"Wherever we gotta."

Even as guilt still twisted in her stomach, his words made something small and warm come alive. She tried to imagine a camp, an entire life, with just Daryl Dixon. An image of a small cabin somewhere in the Georgia wilderness came to her mind. Him hunting, chopping wood, disappearing to do whatever he did in the woods; she could do laundry-she was basically an expert now-or read books or maybe even figure out how to grow a garden. It wasn't too far removed from how they lived now, just without the others. The pair of them, alone. A single autumn leaf lay on the ground by her foot. Nora smiled, a memory of words from a life faraway surfacing.

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both and be one traveler..."

Daryl frowned ever so slightly. She shook her head, and cast a cheerless look at the bigger campsite. She wanted so badly to have both; there had to be a way.

"Maybe...maybe I could talk to them. To Rick or Herschel or maybe Shane."

He scoffed and went back to work. Her brain was grasping feverishly at whatever possibilities it could find.

"Or maybe I could talk to Randall myself, maybe he'd be-"

She was going to say that Randall might be more willing to talk to someone more his own age, someone more relatable. She never got the chance to finish; the arrows dropped to the ground with a _clatter_. Daryl had one hand grasping her firmly by back of the head, his thumb digging into her cheek. The other was pointing fiercely, his finger an inch away from her face. He looked angrier than she had even seen him.

"_You keep away from that shed, ya' hear me?_"

His chest was heaving, eyes bright with a terrible blue flame. What had happened during his "chat" this morning? Nora nodded quickly, unable to look away. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, knew that whatever it was blazing on his face was not anger towards her but something else. Something powerful and magnetic and savage. Her breath quickened; her eyes flickered down to his mouth before she could help it, then snapped back to meet his. He had seen her. His fingers tightened so that the feeling bordered on pain. His other hand slid to her hip. The same magnetic feeling pulsed between them in white hot waves. Why wasn't he doing anything? Nora realized she was holding her breath and gasped for air. The muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched, but he did not move.

And then she put together what was happening; why they always got to this point, this close but never farther. He was waiting for _her_, holding back until she did something first. The notion made her feel like a teenager, like they were slow dancing with three feet of extended arms between them. She was doing the same thing to him. Nora had never had to initiate, wasn't sure she knew how. Did this mean they were stuck? Doomed to exist in this world of pounding blood and burning eyes where they were both without the tools to move forward? How could they hope to ride away into the sunset if they couldn't even figure_ this_ out? His fingers lingered for a moment on her hip when she took an awkward step back.


	28. Chapter 27

A/N:

My dear readers,

I am so deeply sorry that this update took a million years! There was not an especially interesting reason, lack of inspiration and faulty internet being the main ones, but Nora is back! I also feel like I should mention that once we reach the end of season 2 I will be going on a brief hiatus; due to the nature of this story and my own desire to remain as close as possible to the cannon of the TV show, _Civilian_ will begin again after the premiere of season 3 when there is more storyline to incorporate!

A special shout out to TheFictionFairy: your review was so lovely and kind and gave me the kick in the pants I needed to jump start this story again! Thank you a thousand bazillion times!

And so, without further ado, chapter 27! CONTENT WARNING!

* * *

Nora knew she was a coward and it made her feel terrible. Not only had she just sat there and stared at the floor as Dale pleaded for someone to show a shred of humanity, but now she hid in her tent buried in a nest of blankets. The kid- _Randall_, his name was_ Randall-_- was going to die. They were going to kill him because she was afraid. She had felt Dale's eyes training on her, begging her to be brave, to remember the way the world had once been, to stand up for something for once in her life; she had looked away, failing him.

Rick had loaded a small pistol and walked towards the shed. Shane followed and Daryl trailed behind. He had watched her face for a moment before leaving. She just wanted him to come back. When she was growing up, going to school, leaving for college, everything had seemed so damn complicated. There were too many options, many of which seemed more interesting or more moral or more boring. These days everything was black or white. There was no room for pondering or giving something a shot, no room for failure.

She pulled a pillow over her head. Her mother had once said that Nora had exceptional emotional visual-perception skills with a slow processing speed. As a child she couldn't tell whether or not that was something to be proud of; now, she worried that it was a kind of operating that wasn't suited to living in this world. She had to stop worrying and learn to be decisive.

–––

"_Gittup._"

The useless sack of shit squealed like a pig. Blood pounded so hard in his head that it began to ache. Daryl couldn't believe it. After that dog and pony show in the farmhouse this evening, after all of the goddamn dramatics, they weren't going to go through with it. He grabbed a fistful of the kid's shirt and dragged him back towards the shed. This group had no hope of sticking together if they couldn't accomplish a simple fuckin' task to ensure their safety.

The air was cool on his face as he stormed across the dark grass. Someone needed to have some balls. Someone who wasn't henpecked into a husk of a man like Rick, someone who wasn't a goddamn lunatic like Shane. What everyone needed was someone who could see a need, or a threat, and deal with it. Daryl could do that. And he was gonna do it right now.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the shed, he grabbed a old oiling rag and shoved it roughly into the kid's mouth. The stupid asshole uttered a muffled shriek as Daryl hoisted his tied hands over a rusty head hook, stringing him up like a pig for slaughter. The blindfold had slipped down but he didn't care; he wasn't much feeling like making this pleasant. Daryl turned and lit an oil lamp, taking his time, almost enjoying the squirming that was clearly visible from the corner of his eye. He drew his buck knife and held it firmly against the ugly face that watched him with bugging, watery eyes.

Screams erupted from a place that was far too near the campsite. Daryl grabbed the lantern and was hurtling towards the noise before he could think about what he was doing.

–––

"_HELP! Over here! HURRY UP! _"

Nora began to panic when she recognized his voice. What was he doing out in the field? What had happened? Two people were on the ground; a third waved arms frantically as the group descended on them with flashlights and guns. Nora felt a momentary flash of relief when she saw that it was Daryl flagging them down, that it was Daryl who was alright. But then she realized who was ripped open at his feet, and she turned to stone.

–––

Daryl walked across the dark field away from the terribly quiet camp. Rick hadn't been able to do what needed to be done, hadn't been able to let go of that last shred of humanity. Daryl had been aware of every scar on his body when he had pushed the other man aside and ended Dale's life. His gun hand felt red hot, like it was branded; _murderer, killer, executioner_. He hadn't seen Nora; her tent was dark when he passed. He stared at the motorcycle for a brief moment, thinking how easy it would be to just leave all of this pain behind and never look back. Even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't. The tingling scars would never go away.

As he unzipped the flap, a quiet _sniff_ suddenly caught his attention. His hand swung immediately for his crossbow. The moonlight was clear and bright, reflecting on Nora's hair as she looked up at him. If he'd been more aware as he walked up, he would have noticed the cowboy boots standing neatly outside the tent. She was sitting barefoot on the floor with her knees drawn into her chest; her eyes shone with tears which left tracks down her cheeks. He stared at her, not knowing what to say. No words seemed right for this situation.

She wiped away tears and stood. Daryl didn't move as she stepped up to him; her fingers rested against his chest, curling into his collar. They gripped a little harder as she leaned against him for support. Coming onto the tips of her toes. Gently pressing her lips against his.

For a second he thought he must be dreaming, but when he felt her body against his he found he didn't care whether he was or not. She was so warm and the way she reached for him made him forget about the marks that covered his body, that warned the world that he was a monster. The crossbow landed just inside the tent as his hands shot out to grab fistfuls of Nora and smashed her to him. She gasped and his tongue tangled with hers fiercely; her fingernails scratched through the hair at the nape of his neck. It was like they were right back at the C.D.C., only there would be no interruptions this time. Daryl threw an arm around her waist and she allowed him to drag her down to the nylon floor. He kept his eyes on her as he fumbled simultaneously with the zipper on the flap and ripping off her jeans. Nora's hair fanned out beneath her, and goddamn freckle that had him fixated raising and falling with each rapid breath the cut across her lips. She pulled her sweater over her head as he chucked her jeans over his shoulder.

_Oh Jesus goddamn fuckin' Christ._

The black lace was a thousand times better in person than in his mind. His fingers felt clumsy as he ran them over her pale skin, leaving goosebumps. He throbbed against his pants, brain somehow fuzzy and achingly alert at the same time. Daryl bent down and ran his tongue over that damn freckle. Nora's hands reached around and snaked under his shirt. He grunted, and dragged his mouth down her torso; he used his teeth to pull the lace down her legs. And then she made that sound, that fuckin' sound that made him feel like he was busting out of his own skin. One hand pushed her legs apart while the other stripped her of her bra. Nora gasped when his fingers curled inside of her; she felt soft and hot and oh so goddamn fuckin' wet, wet for_ him _and _only him_ and never anyone else besides_ him_. Daryl leaned over her to return his mouth to the freckle as he drove his fingers into her. Each time he slammed his hand forward, the pain of the loss lessened.

Nora clutched at his clothed back and bit back soft whimpers; he imagined a small cabin somewhere in the woods where he could rip her clothes off and she could make all the sexy fuckin' sounds she wanted as he made her come on the kitchen floor. She trembled, her body arching towards him. He gritted his teeth, knowing he wanted to get her off once before they went any further but wanting nothing more than to drive himself into her right fuckin' now.

Nora shuddered and bucked against him. He twitched in his pants; she bit down hard on his shoulder as her body clenched around his hand. He cursed every ear, friendly or otherwise, in the entire state of Georgia for forcing the need for her to be quiet. But her fingers were already working on his fly, her lips on his neck. Daryl growled low in his throat as she ran her hands up his chest, pulling his shirt up. He yanked it off the rest of the way and she dropped her mouth to kiss the newly exposed skin. As he fumbled to grab a blanket off the cot, he suddenly remembered a cardboard box that was tucked into his bag.

_Thanks again, Dr. Roy. And whoever he was drillin' on his lunch breaks_.

Daryl ripped the foil open with his teeth, fixing his eyes on her as she lay naked. The moonlight was pale on her skin. The look in her dark eyes made him become so stiff it almost hurt. He slid himself into her hard and fast; her hands twisted in the blanket when he began to pound his hips forwards.

_Fuck fuck fuuuck._

Everything that had been building up between them was bursting out into the night air. Her breath on his neck at the fish fry. The way she'd purred his name at the C.D.C. The arch of her body as she scrubbed mud off of his bare chest. Daryl had never wanted anything as badly as he had wanted Nora, and the knowledge that she was finally writhing and gasping beneath him nearly had him over the edge. He grabbed her hips and lifted them off the ground, slamming himself into her. It felt so goddamn good, she felt so goddamn good. A small noise bubbled forth from her throat when he gave a particular firm smack of his hips; for a moment he wondered if he was being too rough with her. When his pace slowed, she gripped his forearm, met his eyes, and said the first word either of them had uttered all night.

"Harder."

And that was it. If his little wildcat wanted him to pound the shit out of her, Daryl wasn't about to tell her no. He dropped her hips and laid over her, fingers tangling in her hair as they fucked the pain away, losing themselves in one another. He may be a monster, but maybe she was too. Daryl knew he wasn't going to last when the deep, coiling sensation began in his belly. He bit down at the place where her neck met her shoulder, sucking fiercely. Marking her. Her legs flew around his waist and she turned her head into the blanket to muffle her cry of release. When she clamped down around him, he exploded, hands turning to fists. His blood pounded in his ears, breath ripping out of him in grunts.

Daryl rolled off of Nora, but her sneaky little hands were inching over his sweaty skin; her mouth trailed across his chest. Sonuvabitch, he already wanted her again. She straddled his hips, bending down to place an innocent kiss on his mouth while her body teased, driving him crazy. He failed his arm out, grabbing the cardboard box for the second time.

–––

Daryl blinked awake before the sun came up. He shifted; there was an unfamiliar weight on his chest. It was warm, and extended all the way down the left side of his body. Memories surged into his brain as he looked down and watched her sleeping against him. The early morning was cool and silent. He could feel her breathing, her hand resting on his bare skin. It was a new sensation, having someone entwined with him and perfectly at rest. His fingers curled around her waist before he fell back asleep.


	29. Chapter 28

A/N: Thank you all for your kind words! I am so happy that Nora is being so well received! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

* * *

Nora woke as the sun stretched sluggish rays over the hills. Had she been alone in her own bed in her own tent she would have likely continued to sleep, but the new situation made her body drag her mind from slumber before she could remember why. She laid as still as she could, eyes peering curiously at a sight that few on earth had seen: Daryl Dixon breathing slowly as he dreamed.

Lines had been prematurely etched into his face from years of scowling and squinting against the bright Southern sunlight. Under the scruffy patches of beard and sideburns, a large freckle sat just above his lip. On a different person it might have been called a beauty spot; Nora got the distinct impression that Daryl did not think of it that way, that perhaps the facial hair had been grown over it for a reason. He was a odd physical contradiction; a model-esque freckle, a well muscled body, and seering blue eyes made Daryl Dixon an undeniably handsome man, and yet his filthy clothes, frown lines, and the crisscrossing scars that covered his body belonged to a different person altogether.

She eyed a particularly nasty mark across his chest; it was a clean six inches across and seemed as though it had, at one time, been a deep cut. The scar tissue was dark pink and looked like he had grown since it had healed. It was also slightly shiny, as if from a burn. Nora's chest ached; she wondered what little Daryl Dixon had looked like, wondered how old he'd been when his skin had been horribly marred forever. She looked at his sleeping face and couldn't decide for a moment if she wanted to wake him and hold him and protect that damaged child inside him or just let him sleep. A small voice spoke from that dark place deep inside.

_Let him be._

Her eyes drifted down again, spotting the tip of a design on his opposite arm. Moving as little as possible, she carefully rose her head and peeked across his chest. It was a small tattoo, maybe of a dragon. She wasn't sure, couldn't be sure from this angle. Nora reached out an arm and touched it gently with a finger.

"Hmm."

His hand closed over hers and pulled it away. She hadn't realized he was awake; blood crept into her face when she realized she'd been caught. He didn't open his eyes.

"Tickles."

His voice was gruff, but not angry. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear and slid to rest on his bare skin. He had not let go of her hand when he finally blinked his eyes open and looked at her. They regarded one another silently for a time; his face was calm and, although he tried to conceal it, a little sleepy. She wished circumstances were different and that she could rest her head back on his chest and they could sleep until lunchtime.

–––

Vague dreams shattered around him when Daryl felt something touch him. His hand reached out before he had a chance to think; it was soft and warm and he could smell the faint smells of sweat and sex and magnolias. Nora was the body pressed against him, her toes wiggling nervously on his leg. He relaxed slightly, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to preserve the silent combination of scent and touch. It occurred to him that he might've scared her.

"Tickles."

It seemed the lesser of two evils to admit to being ticklish rather than admit to nearly snapping her neck in a moment of animal reaction. He felt her hair brush against his skin; he opened his eyes. She looked disheveled and maybe a little on edge; he figured he probably looked the same. Their legs had tangled together in sleep, and she rest against him but did not entwine herself or cling or coo at him. Daryl met her eyes; he found the substitution of observation for cuddling strangely sexy. Not that he would've had the first idea what to do if she had wanted to be held; he wasn't sure he had it in him to _ooo_ and _aww_ and call what they had done _lovemaking_. Her fingers wrapped around thumb and his grasp tightened. Some of the mistrust faded from her gaze and was replaced with something calm. Maybe warm. It occurred to him that she was absolutely beautiful, and not just because of her big brown eyes and the way she looked in cowboy boots. Because she was his, because she gave herself to him and wanted him in return.

There wasn't a place for love in the world anymore; maybe there hadn't been room in the first place. But what had happened between them last night wasn't just fuckin'. He'd done that before and never thought twice about the idea of keeping the woman around. Nora had got into his head and under his skin. He knew she liked tea while she knew he liked black coffee, and she knew when he would rather sit in silence while he knew to do something when she got that empty look. Neither of them needed one another, but both of them chose to want the other.

Something flickered suddenly in her eyes, and pain leaked out onto her face. She blinked slowly. He knew she was thinking about Dale; he also knew she didn't blame him for doing what needed to be done. She understood his actions even if she didn't agree, and it was that change in her that was gonna keep her alive. Months back, she and him had been from different worlds. Her scientist parents had taught her to cross her ankles and say please while his old man had beat the shit outta him until he learned better than to be weak. The world ending had been a test for both of them to find the balance; they had found each other, and she had come to trust him to keep her safe while she had given him something to fight for.

Nora sat up and her hair fell across her shoulder as she looked for her clothes. There was another freckle on her back, just beside her spine. His eyes floated over it, studying its contrast to the milkiness of her skin. He decided he liked this one too, but still preferred the one beneath her collarbone. Daryl reached out a touched it softly with the tip of a finger. She shivered. He noticed the faint bruising at the place where her neck met her shoulder, and wondered if his tent would ever feel the same without her.

–––

_The beeping of her alarm clock felt like someone bashing her head with a sledgehammer. She flailed blindly for the snooze button as the sunlight made stars dance behind her tightly squeezed eyelids._

_**Fuck it. No class today.**_

_She couldn't remember what time she'd gotten in the night before, or how much she'd had to drink, or even how she'd made it home. Burrowing under the covers, she squinted at her cell phone as she first scrolled through the call log, then the text messages and finally the photos; they were all recognizable, which seemed like a good thing. There was a large glass of water on her night stand which looked untouched. She struggled to sit up and guzzled it all down._

_When she gave up on sleeping and opened her email, she found a new message from Mother._

_**Eleanor,**_

_**Your father and I would like to express to you our deep concern at your disappointing behavior. Your previous semester's grades were less than satisfactory, and we fear that your social activities are not only distasteful but also far beneath someone of your societal and intellectual caliber. It is our hope that you might remember the effort we put towards ensuring your eventual success and endeavor to improve yourself in the coming term.**_

_**We anticipate your return this Christmas,**_

_**Mother and Father**_

_She read it twice, then went back to bed. It was the first time either of her parents had contacted her in months. It least she now knew they remembered they had a daughter; that they cared enough to write._

–––

"Dale could get under your skin. Sure got under mine. Because he wasn't afraid to say exactly what he thought. How he felt. That kind of honestly is rare, and brave."

Nora felt tears prick her eyes as she stared at the newest mound in the ever growing graveyard. She wiped them away, but didn't feel ashamed. Dale would not have wanted it; he would have been glad to see the group united in their love of him, to have their pain at his death become a common thread that brought them all together.

"I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were. He knew things about us... the truth. Who we really are."

Daryl stood silently to her left. The bruise on her neck tingled beneath her sweater. His presence comforted her; he was a good, honest man and a kind person and not because he felt he needed to be. The world had battered him, dragged him through the dirt and given him every opportunity to turn away. She knew what it felt like to feel like damaged goods, like something less than worthy, like a disappointment. She knew how easy it would be to give up and knew what kind of person he was for refusing to do so.

"In the end he was talkin' about losing our humanity. He said this group is broken. The best way to honor him is to unbreak it...set aside our differences and pull together. Stop feelin' sorry for ourselves and take control of our lives. Our safety, our future. We're not broken. We're gonna prove him wrong. From now on, we're gonna do it his way. That is how we honor Dale."

The early morning sun glinted on his crossbow as the group moved away to begin the day's work. The pair of them lingered for a moment, side by side. It occurred to Nora that he planned on heading out to secure the perimeter with the others, and she realized what he was waiting for. She looked up at him.

"Come back."

He studied her face for a moment, then turned and walked away.


End file.
